tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34267040078186679652018-03-06T02:59:54.616-08:00and everywhere in betweennewly discovered portions of my continuing adventure.emily annenoreply@blogger.comBlogger90125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-8088663346488317792013-05-30T19:22:00.000-07:002013-05-30T19:22:07.257-07:00twenty-somethings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i watched this video and then called my best friend to talk about it for about an hour.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">this happened in a coffee shop while i was inhaling a cinnamon bun.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">everyone of my twenty-something friends that i've watched it with have all drawn on different points that she mentions. piecing together what applies to them and if they see truth in it.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">personally i found it terrifying. i felt like i am the twenty-something that is postponing adulthood.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">that i am waiting to grow up.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">also, i haven't done this yet...but i'd be interested in finding out how many times this blue silk shirt wearing southern gal says 'twenty-somethings' during this talk.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/vhhgI4tSMwc?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-33956373338155219912013-05-07T14:35:00.003-07:002013-05-07T14:35:58.773-07:00still playing snakes and ladders<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">it has been a month and im still playing snakes and ladders.<br />ive gotten the summer schedule for the tour company and its lacking. im still doing random nannying jobs and taking tour groups around the city to make ends meet. but there has been no potential leads on anything solid. no new news on a job that im actually interested in, and would want to keep for the coming year or so.<br />it's brutal. i didnt think this would be where im at after living here for almost four months.<br />and to top it all off im also looking for a new place to live. my roommate patrik recently told me that he is moving back to sweden sooner than expected. so im on the hunt again.<br />this week consists of a couple mornings spent nannying, meeting a girl from latvia who is new to vancouver, a going away party for interns at the tour company and getting my bike tuned up. woah! slow down you 25 year old. the lack of excitement in my life is appalling.<br />i think about where i was a year ago. one year ago from now i was nannying in calgary and spending all of my free time at the library reading travel books about the countries i planned to visit in the coming months, and heading to my favourite outdoor travel gear store; price comparing light weight tents and trying on countless pairs of hiking boots. i was looking forward to something huge. and one year later im back in canada and struggling to pay rent.<br />its hard not to think about packing up everything and buying a one way ticket somewhere warm. where i can live in a little hut on the beach for a year. paying a dollar for my weeks supply of groceries. having a bathing suit be the only thing i ever wear under my clothes. maybe next year.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5c2uzQbr7u8/UYltWknQpeI/AAAAAAAAAyM/4TAnb1uICOw/s1600/945213_10151609052520050_1439741344_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5c2uzQbr7u8/UYltWknQpeI/AAAAAAAAAyM/4TAnb1uICOw/s400/945213_10151609052520050_1439741344_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taken on my training day on vancouver island</td></tr></tbody></table></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-21253798336075552032013-04-04T15:29:00.002-07:002013-04-04T15:29:03.560-07:00training<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">so i had a great weekend getting trained for my new part-time job as a tour guide. it really got me excited for the months to come. i was one of four trainees. we spent the weekend sightseeing and partying our way threw the rocky mountains. spending a night in valemount, banff and golden, before heading back to vancouver to recover. my highlights included going swimming in lake louise, partying in banff at my old stompin' grounds, and seeing the columbia ice fields!&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">my thrill was short lived though. because&nbsp;when i got back from the trip i found out that not only was i not getting paid for any of my six full days of training, i also was only scheduled for one day of work for the next two months. so 'pissed off' doesnt even begin to cover my frustration.on one hand im extremely excited about the job, but furious at their lack of decency at the same time. and it's not like i can bring up the fact that it is super illegal not to pay employees for nessesary training, because then i would loose my job. so that is happening. which means that im back at square one again!&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">i feel like im playing snakes and ladders and i keep landing on snakes. whether it is family issues, personal relationships, employment blunders or financial uncertainty. i keep sliding backwards just when i feel like ive made progress. but so is life.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">ive caught myself doing countless 'count to ten' exhales. it helps.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">tomorrow my roommate patrik leaves for hawaii for a week. i am glad to have the house to myself so i can be relaxed and in my own frame of mind while trying to organize my life here.&nbsp;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/GPdHMn9okDM?feature=player_embedded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fy4uiOVXYzE/UVsQtdTz8fI/AAAAAAAAAwM/o4bSeiS_SGo/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Fy4uiOVXYzE/UVsQtdTz8fI/AAAAAAAAAwM/o4bSeiS_SGo/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first stop day one</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mvf4Bb9B-3g/UVsQzZLOF6I/AAAAAAAAAwU/cdlL-pApgF0/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mvf4Bb9B-3g/UVsQzZLOF6I/AAAAAAAAAwU/cdlL-pApgF0/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">early morning at the new job!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OzvTDVQyzS8/UVsQ3qbjxaI/AAAAAAAAAwc/2uEpj4RcULk/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OzvTDVQyzS8/UVsQ3qbjxaI/AAAAAAAAAwc/2uEpj4RcULk/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">all the single ladies. elk.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfQATF9-xf4/UVsQ9CMDBgI/AAAAAAAAAwk/t3C60rOmfm0/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XfQATF9-xf4/UVsQ9CMDBgI/AAAAAAAAAwk/t3C60rOmfm0/s400/image.jpeg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q4B-sMHDr4o/UVsRAFDNTGI/AAAAAAAAAws/GDEuF8q4Og8/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q4B-sMHDr4o/UVsRAFDNTGI/AAAAAAAAAws/GDEuF8q4Og8/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">columbia icefields</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hLgYh2nMKO0/UVsRFViMo_I/AAAAAAAAAw0/y9CKJkMQi24/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hLgYh2nMKO0/UVsRFViMo_I/AAAAAAAAAw0/y9CKJkMQi24/s400/image.jpeg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">shots and guns</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vafmlbYZ3o8/UVsRK-uGzyI/AAAAAAAAAw8/Ewph23DNaXc/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vafmlbYZ3o8/UVsRK-uGzyI/AAAAAAAAAw8/Ewph23DNaXc/s400/image.jpeg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">emerald lake, AB</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ss696PNtKGg/UVsRRQW2B_I/AAAAAAAAAxE/GknqxWDHb74/s1600/image.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ss696PNtKGg/UVsRRQW2B_I/AAAAAAAAAxE/GknqxWDHb74/s400/image.jpeg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bonfire night goodbyes</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-13151695780739491552013-03-28T00:08:00.002-07:002013-03-28T00:08:36.914-07:00fingers crossed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i am currently in an employment limbo. i haven't started with the tour company yet, but i've already had my last shift at the bakery. i am supposed to be spending this week browsing for new jobs. "supposed to."<br />but i'm having trouble staying focused. day one of my job search didnt go as planned. the problem was that it was gorgeous outside. so i decided to take advantage of the sun and head to the beach. so day one was a flop. day two proved no better. it was spent running errands. and by running errands i mean that i went to the grocery store and bought a twelve pack of reese peanut butter cups and then came back home and watched an entire season of californication. day three continued with the trend. i poured myself a vodka cran at around noon. kept those coming, ate homemade sushi and stayed in my pyjamas until four, then i headed up the street to my friends place and watched my first ever audrey hepburn movie. it was marvellous. the cycle ends tomorrow though. i have a trial shift as a nanny for a family that lives close by. i already know that i probably wont take it. the pay and hours offered are both too low.<br />today i got an email from the tour company about my upcoming training weekend! this weekend, easter weekend, i am going to be heading out on a four day trip to the rocky mountains! i am beyond excited. i have already made a list of stuff to remember to pack and started picking out outfits. i feel like im in elementary school, getting ready for my first real sleepover.<br />i failed to mention one crucial factor in my interview. or maybe they just failed to ask it.<br />the thing is, this is a ten hour bus ride. not only will i have to be on the bus for those ten hours. i will have to be wide awake and exciting. full of enthusiasm. engaging the tourists with funny jokes, answering questions about the area and mingling while oozing charm. now i can rock the crap out of those characteristics in any other circumstance. but once i am in a moving vehicle its like i took a hefty handful of sleeping pills and cozied up to a hot water bottle. im out. and when forced to remain awake in a moving vehicle i get uber naseaus. i get motion sick just backing out of the driveway. asking me to consult a map while the car is moving is also out of the question. so my body has come up with a coping mechanism. ever since i was little, whenever im in a car longer than about twenty minutes i fall asleep. hard and fast asleep. im always given the bitch seat on roadtrips because its not like ill be awake to complain or to take in the scenic views. just give me a nudge when we reach a pee break and im pretty much good to go. so in preparation for the demands of my new job i have developed a plan of attack. ive bought mass amounts of anti-drowsy motion sickness tablets, ginger tea, and ginger root to attack the nausea. ive also decided i will drink coffee on the days of bus travel. im not an avid caffeine ingestor (unless questionable amounts of reese pb cups count?) so i figure shocking my system with that will help keep to my eyes open and the witty commentary flowing.<br />i will report back next week with either a story of how awesome my training wkd was, or how i got fired for falling asleep and/or ralphing on the bus.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KtZY74Y8AqM/UVPpe-dhuVI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Klik4lRy1OI/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KtZY74Y8AqM/UVPpe-dhuVI/AAAAAAAAAv0/Klik4lRy1OI/s400/photo.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">monday afternoon at wreck beach, vancouver</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DU4DtAczKsg/UVPpn8WpBMI/AAAAAAAAAv8/ewbxQngeLic/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DU4DtAczKsg/UVPpn8WpBMI/AAAAAAAAAv8/ewbxQngeLic/s400/photo.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">last day at the bakery. blueberry scone hand.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-1512533859671263732013-03-19T19:59:00.000-07:002013-03-19T19:59:23.999-07:00still settling <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">it has been over a month since my last post.<br />i've found an apartment, got a job, made new friends, got accustomed with bus routes, got a second job, quit my first job, found a market close by, got involved with the couchsurfing scene in vancouver, started exploring the city, and lots of other things that go hand in hand with settling into a new environment.<br />yesterday was sunny. i couldn't remember the last time i had seen the sun here in vancouver. actually i probably could tell by flipping through the photos on my phone. no doubt i capture a picture of that ball of yellow in the sky the last time it appeared. i probably was just as in awe then as i was yesterday.<br />about a month ago i started my job as an apprentice baker at a small bakery in east vancouver. i live about a 35 minute bus ride from work. so the change in age and race of passengers as my bus rolls through the yuppie area of kits where i live, through to the downtown business centre, past chinatown and until it drops me off just past the church-run homeless shelters and parks lined with tented soup kitchens is like a proper tour through vancouver each morning. asian students, hipster infused white young family types, business men and women, poor asians, homeless of all races, white kids saving money by living in sketchy neighbourhoods, and that is when i get off and walk a block to work.<br />i liked the bakery. i still do. but at minimum wage i knew it wouldn't be enough to meet my bills and save as much as i wanted to. so i started looking for something part time to work on the side. this is when i found an ad online for a tour guide position with a company called west trek tours. i applied. went for a first interview, got called back for a second and then was offered the job! i was and am still beyond excited for this position. it is a part time position primarily on the weekends. but it just seems like something i should do. i had a gut feeling about it. interacting with travellers, being loud and outgoing, getting to do all these amazing activities and get paid for it. just wild! i knew i couldn't pass it up. so i told the bakery. i knew that this new job wouldn't be able to work with the schedule the bakery wanted me for. so i told them i would go. so this week will be my last at the bakery. my first training weekend with west trek is on easter weekend from friday-monday. i will be going on their 'rockies' tour. which is four days and three nights. so now i am kind of back to square one. because now i have a part time job and i still need another job to make ends meet. so im on the hunt for employment again.<br />and im not as nervous or as anxious as i was the first time around. i feel like something will work out. i feel good about my decision.<br />i went to my first couchsurfing meeting about a month ago. vancouver is such a bigger hub for travellers than halifax. at the meeting i met people from about fifteen different countries! and i have been getting requests from travellers who want to stay with patrik and i, so hopefully soon we will host people as well.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oEjSmH8IzHE/UUkKekqmiEI/AAAAAAAAAvk/aw6uYauUFU0/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oEjSmH8IzHE/UUkKekqmiEI/AAAAAAAAAvk/aw6uYauUFU0/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pumpkin sourdough at the bakery</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-EB8DkUgWw/UUkKV8fTCwI/AAAAAAAAAvc/aGb-Hj2MM-8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e-EB8DkUgWw/UUkKV8fTCwI/AAAAAAAAAvc/aGb-Hj2MM-8/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tuesday night stroll along kitsilano beach</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iYSXuE7Y1pg/UUkKH2zFtfI/AAAAAAAAAvM/ti8zDxCJoCo/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iYSXuE7Y1pg/UUkKH2zFtfI/AAAAAAAAAvM/ti8zDxCJoCo/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">homemade pizza and dough from work</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zRrsvQI0wPo/UUkKIZ32x5I/AAAAAAAAAvU/omz9OK6sRUg/s1600/photo.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zRrsvQI0wPo/UUkKIZ32x5I/AAAAAAAAAvU/omz9OK6sRUg/s320/photo.PNG" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">keeping in touch [boston-vancouver]</td></tr></tbody></table><br />if you click the link below it will take you to a video of the tour company i will be working for and depict some of the stuff i will be getting up to over easter weekend.<br /><br />http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lSqy2Qu20QQ&amp;feature=youtu.be<br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-67680540528688319622013-02-14T22:50:00.000-08:002013-02-14T22:52:52.001-08:00vancouver valentine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i live in a one bedroom basement apartment with my friend patrik. we are both stressed about trying to find a job. so today we were both out on the streets of vancouver handing out resumes with the hopes that someone will want us.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div>i am still waiting to be wanted, personally and professionally.&nbsp;</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82QZWihz0bQ/UR3aIbeAE6I/AAAAAAAAAug/OQE9T4rYmS8/s1600/Photo+on+2013-02-14+at+22.47.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82QZWihz0bQ/UR3aIbeAE6I/AAAAAAAAAug/OQE9T4rYmS8/s400/Photo+on+2013-02-14+at+22.47.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">virtual clink</td></tr></tbody></table><div>by late afternoon i was out of resumes and sitting in a cafe drinking an earl grey latte. the playlist was an ironic collection of some romcom soundtrack. obviously the cafe dj did not take the time to scan the premisses to observe that there were only singles sipping on lattes. not a couple in sight. the soundtrack mocked me.&nbsp;</div><div>my valentines day evening was spent&nbsp;navigating my way to some guys house so i could buy his iron off him, which i found on a craigslist ad. it was creepy and thrifty. when i got back to the apartment i discovered that the oven was not working. which soiled my plans for homemade sweet potato fries.</div><div>so instead i walked to the closest liquor store bought the cheapest bottle of chilled white and called it a night. got a message on skype from one of my best friends who is living in san diego. she skyped me and she too was having a glass of wine by herself, alone in her apartment.</div><div>so we did a virtual clink of our glasses and enjoyed our sad valentines day together.&nbsp;</div><div>it was the perfect end to my day. minus my lingering &nbsp;rage about the sweet potato fries.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-81400709405946238612013-02-10T11:46:00.000-08:002013-02-10T11:46:29.971-08:00pit of doom feeling.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0gsYKAPzl6A/URA_9iLtLLI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ChH43BzcX4c/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0gsYKAPzl6A/URA_9iLtLLI/AAAAAAAAAuA/ChH43BzcX4c/s400/IMG_0100.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first photo in vancouver&nbsp;</td></tr></tbody></table>i am in vancouver.<br />before i left nova scotia i wasn't really worried or nervous. i felt like i was leaving on another trip.<br />i have only been here for a couple days but my feelings have definitely changed.<br />now i am constantly nervous, anxious and worried. i don't want to overstay my welcome at my friends place. which she keeps insisting isn't even close to an issue. and i get that it is mostly in my head, but i just can't help it.<br />everyday since i've arrived here all my thoughts have revolved around checking the apartment listings, contacting people and going to view places.<br />my unnerving emotions are even turning physical. i have a constant knot in my stomach that i can't get rid of. i have no interest in going out to eat or for drinks, and no interest in sight seeing at all. i won't be able to enjoy it knowing that i could be doing more to try and set up a place to call home for my time in vancouver.<br />i haven't even started to worry about finding a job. i am too focused on finding somewhere to rest my head where i don't have to live out of a bag.<br />i have two showings tonight. it would have been three, but as usual something came up with one of them. decided they weren't moving out, already found a tenant, i was too old, too young, too unemployed, too mature, too immature.<br />i know that in a month this will all seem like so long ago. i will be caught up in a job and this pit of doom feeling i am having will be a distant memory. but right now it is not a memory. right now i am in it. right in the middle. pit of doom.<br />my outlook on life feels as ominous as the grey skies in the photo above.<br /><br />[fast forward four days]<br /><br />i am now an official resident of vancouver. one of the places i went to see worked out. a basement apartment in an adorable little house with an adorable little family living above me. the pit of doom feeling has left my stomach, and i am now feeling naively positive about the prospect of me easily finding a job this week.<br />this whole beginning stage thing is weird. arriving in a new city, finding a place to call your own, getting to know your new neighbourhood, finding the cheapest grocery store and produce market.<br /><br />last night my friend robyn and i waddled in the dark with an oversized futon mattress made of rocks flopped on top of our backs. robyn is about the height of an average 10 year old, which makes this visual even better. while waddling down the narrow pathway to the back of the house it hit me that this will be the longest i've lived in one place besides my home in nova scotia. i've been away from home longer, but never stationary, in one place. the thought of buying a utensil set gives me more anxiety than purchasing a one-way ticket.<br /><br />no where near a grown-up.<br /><br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-104430594858857252013-01-19T17:58:00.000-08:002013-01-19T18:00:21.622-08:00a change will do you good<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i was more than ready to come home when i was in thailand.<br />falling asleep at two in the afternoon on a beach off the west coast of thailand, listening to the waves crash at my feet. an ederly thai woman shouting "coke-nuts ICEY creaaaam".<br />i dreamt of walking my dog through the trails around my house while the autumn leaves fell. the season changed in fast forward in my head, the snow began to fall and i was bundled up in a cozy winter parka with a toque on my head.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4AZhQYqYHM/UPr1rFT5_PI/AAAAAAAAAtU/g6w0ukXpxNA/s1600/IMG_0041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w4AZhQYqYHM/UPr1rFT5_PI/AAAAAAAAAtU/g6w0ukXpxNA/s400/IMG_0041.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">play time with mom</td></tr></tbody></table>it has been three months.<br />i am full of snuggly lovins, homemade favourites, and daytime television.<br />my days repeat. wake at noon. optional shower, breakfast, walk dog, watch romcom, dad gets home, read with dad in the living room till mom gets home, dinner, coronation street, more reading, mom and dad to bed, and i end up awake until two or three. hitting a really strong arts and crafts frame of mind around one. modge podge and crayola products strewn a top my desk.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3mMhzHInKpM/UPr1rHOyUrI/AAAAAAAAAtY/dzwotNUHClQ/s1600/IMG_0045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3mMhzHInKpM/UPr1rHOyUrI/AAAAAAAAAtY/dzwotNUHClQ/s400/IMG_0045.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my puppy, anna</td></tr></tbody></table><br />but i think i've had my fill. in fact i probably had my fill after the first week. but i had to give it another three months to be really sure.<br />and as i mentioned before i felt more comfortable coming home this time because i had a plan. well a fetus of a plan. maybe just an egg.<br />i knew i would come home and get comfy. full of cuddles and carbs. then i would buy another one way ticket. i did.<br />hello vancouver.<br />"well that's great emily anne! what are you doing in vancouver?!"<br />"i don't know"<br />nothing has changed i still have no clue. i have no job. no place to live. no plan.<br />luckily i have a good friend who lives in the city who is letting me crash with her for the first week. and if everything goes according to the fancifull dreamlike scenario in my head, i will find an apartment and a job with ease. doubtful.<br />vancouver is just going to be a temporary base. maybe just the spring and summer. and then i'll be off again. no immediate plans for adulthood just yet.<br />wish me luck :)<br /><br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-86195886447095633862012-12-16T11:33:00.000-08:002012-12-16T11:34:38.628-08:00ballet and booster seats<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">for years my mother and i have wanted to go see the nutcracker ballet together.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">it has remained a subject of daydreams. every year there has been a different excuse. it was on the same day as nana's christmas party, i was out of the country, my flight got in after the show stopped for the season, too expensive, snow storm, sold out, clara broke her leg. &nbsp;we could never seem to catch a break.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">but this year it all changed. my aunt was given tickets to a matinee showing of the nutcracker by one of the ballet's sponsors, and she gave them to me and my mom. i was thrilled.</span><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5pjgiCsgJM4/UMZTIvfFYvI/AAAAAAAAArc/uh7S70Slsh4/s1600/nutcracker.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5pjgiCsgJM4/UMZTIvfFYvI/AAAAAAAAArc/uh7S70Slsh4/s320/nutcracker.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">clara and the nutcracker</td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">when we entered the theatre lobby i was in shock. we were giants. surrounded by hundreds of little girls and their mothers and grandmothers. a generational tradition. little girls holding cabbage patch dolls in matching gowns. GOWNS. the miniature humans were dressed in lavish dresses with crinolines poofing out above their dora the explorer winter boots. i was wearing a jean jacket and red keds. the ugly 24 year old duckling of the matinee.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">five minutes until curtain and we entered. on our right sat a little girl named taylor and her mother. taylor is about five years old. she refuses to sit still. her only redeeming quality is that she is tall for her age and does not require one of the brightly coloured booster seats. which the ushers seem to be handing out like candy to ever child that walks by. not taking into consideration the lap sitters, hallway tantrumer's and aisle walkers among them. we spent the entire show hearing</span><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"taylor sit down"&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"taylor one more time and we are leaving!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"don't lick that!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"QUIET people are trying to watch the show"</span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">i adapted to taylor and her wild ways. but the four eyed blonde pigtail stick figure in front of my seat was another story. she could have cared less about the ballerinas prancing about on stage. she didn't even bat an eyelid during the set changes. in fact her eyes seemed determined to stare at everything but the stage. she sat on her knees facing me for the majority of the show. her knuckles griping the chair back, her nose squished into the seat cushion so tightly that it pushed her glasses up a couple inches higher than they should be.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">the families in the aisles surrounding us had lunch boxes filled with snacks for intermission, they talked about christmas concerts, led kids down to the front of auditorium to get a peak at the symphony pit, and the said countless rounds of "excuse me, excuse me, excuse me"as they squished in and out of aisles like we were at a wiggles concert instead of the ballet.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">needless to say, i can understand why my mom waited until i was 24 to take me. until i was old enough to stash snacks in my own pockets, sit quietly, and hold in my pee until it was socially acceptable to relieve myself.&nbsp;</span></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-67845641981294534842012-12-07T15:28:00.002-08:002012-12-07T15:28:45.580-08:00saving 101<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif; line-height: 30px;"></span>found this gem on nomadicmatt.com this week. an article about a guy named michael who wanted to travel and got thrifty with his saving techniques in order to do so. it got me thinking about what techniques i'll have to start once i get settled in vancouver.<br />the following article snipit is courtesy of travel blogger matt kepnes from nomadicmatt.com.<br /><br /><br /><header style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><h3 class="post_title" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: museo-slab; line-height: 39px; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">How Michael Saved $14k in 6 Months Making $9 Per Hour</span></h3><div class="meta" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 5px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">By Nomadic Matt | Published December 5th, 2012</div></header><section style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; display: block; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div id="nr_fo_top_of_post" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="michael traveling success story" src="http://media.nomadicmatt.com/michaelphotos1.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: left; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 8px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /><em style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"></em></div></section><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif; line-height: 30px;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">A lot of people say you need to have a well-paying job in order to afford your trip. But Michael (age 27) never had one of those, yet he still managed to save $15k in 6 months on his trip while on making $9 USD per hour! When he told me his story, I knew he was perfect for this week’s success story. He epitomized the idea that anyone can find the money for travel. Without further ado, let’s meet Michael and find out how you save so much money while making so little!</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Nomadic Matt: Tell everyone about yourself.</strong><br /><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Michael:</strong>&nbsp;I was living in Austin, Texas before I became a citizen of the world. I had always wanted to take a year off and travel the world. I had taken small trips overseas in the past and would meet so many travelers who were taking months or years off to travel. Those people put the idea in my head that maybe I could travel for extended periods of time too. When I graduated from college I spent a year and a half looking for a teaching position but couldn’t find one. I started entertaining the idea of selling everything I own and taking a year off to travel, but still it didn’t really seem feasible. Since I couldn’t find a teaching position I got a job as a cook at a pizza place in Austin. I was only making $9 per hour plus tips.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">How long were you planning on traveling?&nbsp;</strong><br />I was just planning to be gone for a year. Once I started researching&nbsp;<a href="http://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-tips/how-to-travel-the-world-on-50-usd/" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #0093d0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">how to travel the world</a>, I came across several blogs of people offering words of encouragement and advice. I had looked up&nbsp;<a href="http://www.nomadicmatt.com/travel-tips/buying-a-rtw-ticket/" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; color: #0093d0; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline;">RTW tickets</a>&nbsp;and thought that would be the best way to go. I had started organizing and planning the entire year; what cities I would go to, the cost of living in each country, etc. But then I thought “how the hell can someone plan for an entire year?” I was new to planning a trip but still knew there was just no way to plan anything for an entire year. Now, I’m just going to go with the flow and be gone as long as possible.</div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif; line-height: 30px;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img alt="michael traveling" src="http://media.nomadicmatt.com/michaelphotos4.jpg" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; float: right; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 8px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; max-width: 100%; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" /><strong style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-weight: bold; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Ok, so tell us, how the heck did you save $15k in 6 months?&nbsp;</strong><br />I decided I wanted to save $15,000 for my trip, figuring that could last me for a year. I only had 6 months to save for my trip so I had to work my hardest to be able to get to $15,000. I say I only had six months because to keep myself from putting off the trip and keeping myself disciplined I booked my flight out of the U.S. the day I decided I was going to travel around the world.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">At first I thought I would get a second part-time job, upping my total work hours to 60 a week. I was only making $9 USD per hour so it’s not like I was living the rich life. My boss ended up giving me the hours I wanted so there was no need for a second job. On top of the 60 hours he gave me, I would eat up others people’s hours if they called out of work. On average for 5 months I was working about 65 hours a week. Life was tough, but I kept my goal in sight and fought through it. In those 6 months, I put myself on a budget; I would limit myself to drinking once a week, eat food from work as much as I could, not use my air conditioner as much (that was the worst for I was living in Texas), and try to lower my electricity bill by not using as much light. Basically, I put my expenses into two columns, wants and needs (a friend of mine came up with this money saving technique). Every time I was to spend money I would ask myself if it was a want or a need. If it was a want I would usually come to the conclusion that it was a waste of money.</div><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Aside from working I sold stuff to make money. I sold almost every electronic item I had, like my T.V., guitar amps and such. I figured I could always get those things again later in life if I wanted them. I also sold my car.<br /><br /></div></span><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">if he can do it, i can do it...again. although i have no car to sell, no air conditioning not to use, and actually no job to speak of at the moment, but i am confident that i will get creative just like michael did. it is hard sacrificing things in the present in order to save for something in the far off future. but reading stories like these helps to keep me on the right mindset.&nbsp;</div><div><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: proxima-nova, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 30px;"><div style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-color: transparent; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 10px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><br /></b></div></span></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-91375970466059734842012-12-05T11:47:00.002-08:002012-12-05T11:47:40.449-08:00low expectations <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i've been home for a little over a month now. and i've already made my next move.<br />i bought a one way ticket to vancouver!<br />i leave at the end of january. no job, no place to live.<br /><br />i need to save up some more money before i can head off on another adventure. so instead of staying home and working here i decided to make the process of saving money into an adventure too.<br />and an adventure it will be! i will arrive in vancouver with no plans other than crashing at a friends place for a week while i look for a job and a place to live.<br /><br />i'm going in with low expectations. that way i can't be disapointed. well i mean if i end up getting strep throat, stung by a bee, develop an infectious rash on the back of my ankles so i can't wear shoes and i'm forced to wear flip flops all the time, then yes, i will get disapointed. but in general i think this is a good way to go into any new situation. trying a new restaurant, traveling to a new country, buying a pair of shoes that are a little to tight, but that you hope will stretch out in the first lil bit. low expectations.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>through my travels i have learned one thing for certain,<i> it is the journey not the destination</i>. sure if your journey happens to take you through the outback of australia that sounds drastically more exciting than spending the same amount of time in your hometown while working at a restaurant and spending your nights watching coronation street with your parents. however it is up to you to make yourself open to experiences, and create opportunities for them to happen.&nbsp;so with that in mind i am entering this next chunk of my life with low expectations, an empty bank account and an open mind.<br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-75LNveZ12UQ/UL-iR4PcKFI/AAAAAAAAAp0/DVtKcQ23Ruk/s1600/Photo+on+2012-11-28+at+17.43+%236.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-75LNveZ12UQ/UL-iR4PcKFI/AAAAAAAAAp0/DVtKcQ23Ruk/s400/Photo+on+2012-11-28+at+17.43+%236.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">stewart sandwich<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">&nbsp;</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9_rSeBtpiW4/UL-iTI3845I/AAAAAAAAAp8/rN6LbXhdPnE/s1600/Photo+on+2012-12-02+at+15.44+%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9_rSeBtpiW4/UL-iTI3845I/AAAAAAAAAp8/rN6LbXhdPnE/s400/Photo+on+2012-12-02+at+15.44+%233.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and dad</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6guK8NzHGlI/UL-iUHLdNNI/AAAAAAAAAqE/lLyYYWTgacM/s1600/Photo+on+2012-12-02+at+18.13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6guK8NzHGlI/UL-iUHLdNNI/AAAAAAAAAqE/lLyYYWTgacM/s400/Photo+on+2012-12-02+at+18.13.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">setting up nana and papa's christmas tree</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IYPyNIlmqBY/UL-iVBp_qJI/AAAAAAAAAqM/6Sl_hPTKPUU/s1600/Photo+on+2012-12-05+at+15.21+%233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IYPyNIlmqBY/UL-iVBp_qJI/AAAAAAAAAqM/6Sl_hPTKPUU/s400/Photo+on+2012-12-05+at+15.21+%233.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i wear fake glasses and braid my hair like a five year old blonde dutch girl</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-65692248689198353202012-11-19T17:31:00.006-08:002012-11-19T17:33:49.795-08:00returning the favour<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">a few nights ago i had my third round of couchsurfers stay here with me in wolfville. this was the first time my parents were home for it too. so they got to experience the joys of couchsurfing as well.<br />when mom found out that we had two guests on the way she went into clean up mode. she vacuumed and cleaned everything. she also began to make detailed dinner preparations as if overnight we had opened up a b&amp;b.<br />so around 6pm carolin from germany and kyle from ontario arrived at our house with a bottle of red in hand. i invited my friend tippy over for dinner too. so the house filled with noise once everyone arrived and i loved it.<br />we all sat at the kitchen table and talked of how carolin and kyle had met at a hostel in halifax and carolin decided to travel with kyle in his car as he traveled around the south shore of nova scotia before heading to prince edward island. dad was particularlly intrigued to hear how they got started with couch surfing and he shared his expereince of hearing about it through me and not really liking the concept until after i did it for the first time. then he was cs's biggest fan.<br />we had a traditional maritime dinner of hodge podge, roast chicken and for dessert an apple pear ginger crisp. then tippy and i taught kyle and coralin one of our favourite boardgames before we called it a night.<br />and as i write this i am sitting in my living room with another couchsurfer. isabelle, she is from quebec and is spending the weekend with us. i am just thrilled to be hosting couchsurfer's again! i love getting the opportunity to try and return the kindness that was shown to me during my travels.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHiGeVsN8c/UI_YNIXd1tI/AAAAAAAAAhg/VOM3WG3-GkE/s1600/cs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PtHiGeVsN8c/UI_YNIXd1tI/AAAAAAAAAhg/VOM3WG3-GkE/s400/cs.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">coralin, kyle and me</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vtp_ZEGrR58/UKrcwgn0IeI/AAAAAAAAAn8/K5fku4xCln0/s1600/IMG_5483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="326" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vtp_ZEGrR58/UKrcwgn0IeI/AAAAAAAAAn8/K5fku4xCln0/s400/IMG_5483.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and mom and our valley</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T8OxH64rPp0/UKrczid9A8I/AAAAAAAAAoE/P_AnYCwxA-A/s1600/IMG_5489.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T8OxH64rPp0/UKrczid9A8I/AAAAAAAAAoE/P_AnYCwxA-A/s400/IMG_5489.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">halls harbour</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPyGNlFqr6c/UKrc2qkFa3I/AAAAAAAAAoM/lonivmIvknI/s1600/IMG_5498.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DPyGNlFqr6c/UKrc2qkFa3I/AAAAAAAAAoM/lonivmIvknI/s400/IMG_5498.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and isabelle at halls harbour</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0LdpxHpNrM/UI_BuqkzXiI/AAAAAAAAAhI/ohCbxoKo24w/s1600/hodgepodge_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="292" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Z0LdpxHpNrM/UI_BuqkzXiI/AAAAAAAAAhI/ohCbxoKo24w/s400/hodgepodge_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">hodge podge<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-8054046359385885022012-11-06T09:27:00.000-08:002012-11-06T09:27:38.912-08:00ten small things<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i recently was reading an article written by one of my favourite travel inspirations, alastair humphreys.<br />after reading the article i saw a post he wrote called 'ten small things i wish i did more'. he followed it up with a 'ten things i waste time on' list.<br />a simple list. a lot of what he wrote i could relate to. it made me want to make my own list. so i did.<br />i encourage you to make your own. post it on your fridge, in your journal etc. then check it out a year from now and see if the list remains the same.<br /><br /><b>10 things i wish i did more</b>:<br />1. walk<br />2. wake up early<br />3. swim<br />4. socialize<br />5. yoga<br />6. read books<br />7. wear sunscreen<br />8. write blog articles<br />9. call my grandparents<br />10. floss<br /><br /><b>10 things i waste time on</b>:<br />1. facebook<br />2. horrible tv shows<br />3. deciding what to wear<br />4. worrying<br />5. trying to solve simple technological issues by reading or watching tutorial's for dummies<br />6. emails<br />7. brushing my hair. (i'm dangerously close to chopping it all off or just accepting dreadlocks)<br />8. stumbleupon.com<br />9. fantasizing/daydreaming<br />10. <br /><br /><b>10 things i am happy with:</b><br />1. family &amp; friends<br />2.&nbsp;being in nova scotia until christmas<br />3. being creative<br />4. not having a clue what i will be doing next year<br />5. the amount of traveling i have done<br />6. my money saving skills<br />7.&nbsp;my routine of keeping a journal<br />8. how long my childhood was<br />9.&nbsp;my level of french proficiency<br />10. the fact that i couldn't think of a tenth item for the above list<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TlHI6ZaOqG8/UJlGVaU9tLI/AAAAAAAAAnA/-LwGBqGEFB8/s1600/Photo+on+2012-11-06+at+13.15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TlHI6ZaOqG8/UJlGVaU9tLI/AAAAAAAAAnA/-LwGBqGEFB8/s400/Photo+on+2012-11-06+at+13.15.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happy with #1</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yca8TzTTKwA/UJlGtxS-ITI/AAAAAAAAAng/VP7rL0km0Ag/s1600/IMG_5488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yca8TzTTKwA/UJlGtxS-ITI/AAAAAAAAAng/VP7rL0km0Ag/s400/IMG_5488.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">happy with #10</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9gcsw4aAqBU/UJlGkVHjYiI/AAAAAAAAAnI/x-tow1vA8q4/s1600/IMG_5474.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="352" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9gcsw4aAqBU/UJlGkVHjYiI/AAAAAAAAAnI/x-tow1vA8q4/s400/IMG_5474.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">downtown in my home town</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C35zKWCRkPY/UJlGo29_6mI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/Q-al35t6dpE/s1600/IMG_5476.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-C35zKWCRkPY/UJlGo29_6mI/AAAAAAAAAnQ/Q-al35t6dpE/s400/IMG_5476.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my 10 year old puppy, anna</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ussWdpFbiSA/UJlGruLLbrI/AAAAAAAAAnY/nZhPLH49Uoc/s1600/IMG_5484.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ussWdpFbiSA/UJlGruLLbrI/AAAAAAAAAnY/nZhPLH49Uoc/s400/IMG_5484.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">looking over the valley where i live</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-43569049595392040762012-11-02T15:39:00.000-07:002012-11-02T15:39:15.323-07:00one hundred<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">when i left on my trip i told my family i would be home for christmas.<br />but in the back of my head i kind of knew i wanted to come home before that. i wanted to be able to spend the whole month of december at home. be able to make short bread cookies with papa joe.<br /><br />who once when asked how to make his secret recipe of short bread cookies answered,<br />"take a pound of butter and add flour till it feels right"<br /><br />then once i started traveling i chose a page at the back of my journal and formed a list. a list of things i missed from home, and wanted to fit into my stay when i returned. most of the list ended up being food. <br /><br /><b>the list:&nbsp;</b><br />frenchies with mom (frenchies is an amazing used clothing store)<br />oatmeal chocolate chip cookies<br />mom's pancakes<br />borscht with a dollop of sour cream and fresh chives<br />long walks with my dog along the bay of fundy<br />read anna karenina before the movie comes out<br />hike cape split<br />nana's spaghetti<br />nana's sweet and sour chicken<br />make a photo book of my trip<br />watch dad coach at some end of season football games<br />cuddly sunday mornings<br />pineapple on pizza<br />make homemade christmas cards<br />play catan with tippy and alicia<br />watch ted talks with mom<br />garlic fingers<br />bubble baths<br />go ice fishing<br />make perogies at ukrainian christmas<br /><br />after i started adding to the list. and i watched it grow and consume the page, i thought that maybe going home earlier wouldn't hurt. i thought a lot about it. i was worried that if i went home i would instantly regret it. i would get back to wolfville and daydream about how i could still be on a beach in southern thailand. but this time it felt different that when i left new zealand and came back to canada two years ago. this time i felt ready. i felt confident in my decision.<br />my nana kept pestering me.<br />"emily anne when are you coming home, where are you going next? you know nanny's 100th birthday is in october, you know you're named after her, it would mean so much to me, everyone is coming to celebrate her birthday, you'll meet so many cousins..."<br />nana wanted me home bad. which is exactly why i didn't tell her when i booked my flight home. i love a good surprise.<br />bangkok - seoul - toronto - home<br />i arrived home, attempted to adjust to the ten hour time difference, enjoyed what i believe was the longest shower i have ever taken, and then drove to cape breton with my mom. the surprised went off without a hitch. my nana was more surprised than my nanny. i guess not too much shocks you after once you turn 100. but my nana made up for it. when i ran up the porch she was just coming out the door, i whipped off the fleece blanket that i had wrapped around me and said BOO!<br />she stumbled backwards, her mouth was literally gaping open.<br />"YOU ASSHOLE! you you you little shit!"<br />those were the first words out of my nana's mouth. lovely little thing she is.<br />the weekend went by in a blur. i saw many family members and received so many hugs i actually think i developed subtle rib bruising.&nbsp;it was an explosion of irish relatives; the quantity of liquor consumed was a direction correlation.<br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gJ-RmFHtPtw/UJE4Oqi7ciI/AAAAAAAAAmE/UaP-hWdVug4/s1600/IMG_5402_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gJ-RmFHtPtw/UJE4Oqi7ciI/AAAAAAAAAmE/UaP-hWdVug4/s400/IMG_5402_2.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cousin saki passed out on mom</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmLc4wx2A6w/UJE4RHU6F0I/AAAAAAAAAmM/HJR5mJqkGVI/s1600/IMG_5417.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZmLc4wx2A6w/UJE4RHU6F0I/AAAAAAAAAmM/HJR5mJqkGVI/s400/IMG_5417.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cooper family</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s3uyBWFtxbY/UJE4T5THGnI/AAAAAAAAAmU/16x_DS7-EpM/s1600/IMG_5421.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s3uyBWFtxbY/UJE4T5THGnI/AAAAAAAAAmU/16x_DS7-EpM/s400/IMG_5421.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my aunts</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JoIYor48mHg/UJE4VzffuCI/AAAAAAAAAmc/zwZfcsGqTHg/s1600/IMG_5426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="291" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JoIYor48mHg/UJE4VzffuCI/AAAAAAAAAmc/zwZfcsGqTHg/s400/IMG_5426.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">skipping stones</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXt6IhGRwEQ/UJE4YKSJ3YI/AAAAAAAAAmk/qZP25YR9GDY/s1600/IMG_5428.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXt6IhGRwEQ/UJE4YKSJ3YI/AAAAAAAAAmk/qZP25YR9GDY/s400/IMG_5428.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">more stones on the atlantic</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CbRCOGleRxs/UJE1gAXE8rI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/8eexmZWuVOk/s1600/384285_3800542376302_1336976139_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-CbRCOGleRxs/UJE1gAXE8rI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/8eexmZWuVOk/s400/384285_3800542376302_1336976139_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mom and nanny</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ttZbFJ_5xzQ/UJE1hVZIP1I/AAAAAAAAAlY/xZ_1VoDTI7A/s1600/553967_3812696600150_177076920_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ttZbFJ_5xzQ/UJE1hVZIP1I/AAAAAAAAAlY/xZ_1VoDTI7A/s400/553967_3812696600150_177076920_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">josiah, jordan, me, jacob</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yHsVQ_mEugg/UJE1ikgFqLI/AAAAAAAAAlg/gYiaB_wWTvE/s1600/564945_3800521975792_1371510502_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yHsVQ_mEugg/UJE1ikgFqLI/AAAAAAAAAlg/gYiaB_wWTvE/s400/564945_3800521975792_1371510502_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">nana and her three children</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zoAglsTMmJ8/UJE1kreKABI/AAAAAAAAAlo/uYJ8jcXOouo/s1600/227521_10152185825855357_944852169_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zoAglsTMmJ8/UJE1kreKABI/AAAAAAAAAlo/uYJ8jcXOouo/s400/227521_10152185825855357_944852169_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">four generations<br />emily, annetta, suzanne, emily anne</td></tr></tbody></table>so for now i am home and it feels right.<br />i don't regret coming home when i did. i am happy right where i am.<br /><br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-54067872630092812842012-10-31T07:16:00.001-07:002012-10-31T07:16:17.609-07:00koh lanta<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">after i left bangkok i flew to phuket, spent one night there before heading to an island called koh hae. there are no stores or roads on koh hae. i rented a sada, which is basically a bamboo hut without walls. i &nbsp;stayed on the island alone for four nights before heading to koh phi phi. i couchsurfed on phi phi (pronounced pee pee) for three nights before heading to koh lanta.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOMN1QJji9s/UJCBQczhOdI/AAAAAAAAAj8/gjaMoGPNa6Y/s1600/IMG_5116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WOMN1QJji9s/UJCBQczhOdI/AAAAAAAAAj8/gjaMoGPNa6Y/s400/IMG_5116.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">monkey beach</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sCQJV6WZMpM/UJBuT4mfeYI/AAAAAAAAAik/EYebt3LdVYQ/s1600/IMG_5051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sCQJV6WZMpM/UJBuT4mfeYI/AAAAAAAAAik/EYebt3LdVYQ/s400/IMG_5051.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my sada on koh hae</td></tr></tbody></table><br />in october 2010 i met susanna for the first time. she was a couchsurfer i had lined up to host me on koh lanta.&nbsp;koh lanta is a beautiful and often under rated island off the west coast of thailand.<br />and now, nearly two years to the day i am back on koh lanta&nbsp;with her.<br />this time i wasn't couchsurfing with her, but instead she helped set me up with a place to stay. she had a friend who was a yoga instructor at a resort on the island. her friend was away on vacation and needed someone to house/dog sit. so i lived in a bungalow over looking the beach on a resort property for a my first week on koh lanta. it was amazing! i literally could hear the waves crashing while i fell asleep each night.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yv8kvNeiKP4/UJBwUuUmTPI/AAAAAAAAAiw/InISOgCsDTA/s1600/IMG_5211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yv8kvNeiKP4/UJBwUuUmTPI/AAAAAAAAAiw/InISOgCsDTA/s400/IMG_5211.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">susanna and i with our morning ceasars</td></tr></tbody></table>when my week house/dog sitting came to an end i needed to find somewhere new to stay. this task was made so much easier because susanna knows basically everyone on the island. she put me in touch with a friend of hers named nikki. susanna told me that nikki was in need of a nanny for her 19 month old daughter layla. in exchange for looking after layla she would provide me with a place to stay. so the next morning susanna drove me over to nikki's place and introduced me and left me to settle in.<br />so here is the deal.<br />nikki and neng are a couple. nikki is from england and neng is thai. they have been dating for years and have a 19 month old daughter, layla. over the past four years they have built and ran a hostel together. neng built it from the ground up. recently they decided to break-up and in turn they sold their business to an american/thai couple. the day i arrived was also the day that nikki and layla moved out of their home with neng. it was a very weird environment to enter into. but upon my arrival i met mimi. mimi is a girl from lybia who was also working for neng in exchange for a place to stay. mimi explained how she became involved.&nbsp;there is an organization called help exchange. i'm actually kind of surprised i hadn't heard of it before.&nbsp;basically you get a free place to stay in exchange for doing a little work each day. the work varies depending on the organization. anything from farming, to child care, to construction. so mimi had come to be staying here by sending an email to nikki and agreeing to help take care of layla and help to build some of the cafe that neng was working on.<br />neng and nikki also have a property just down from their hostel. this property is called the funny farm. neng is in the process of building a clay house. and then turning it into a cafe/bar. aptly named the clay cafe. after mimi explained all of this i was starting to understand. then she told me that there were more people living here too.<br />there were five of us in total working and living at the funny farm.&nbsp;roman the frenchman, luke the american, mimi the lybian, martin the norwegian and me.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lFcrTZvFj2Q/UJAmkVRyFkI/AAAAAAAAAh4/tRvbuvOr0Q8/s1600/IMG_5258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lFcrTZvFj2Q/UJAmkVRyFkI/AAAAAAAAAh4/tRvbuvOr0Q8/s400/IMG_5258.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>laya</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yay5DPn5wmg/UJB2Jvgv9SI/AAAAAAAAAjM/tIJle_0i5kE/s1600/IMG_5235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yay5DPn5wmg/UJB2Jvgv9SI/AAAAAAAAAjM/tIJle_0i5kE/s400/IMG_5235.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">funny farm</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yru7r0iDZJM/UJCFcFfhrPI/AAAAAAAAAks/psu2Io51Vks/s1600/IMG_5213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yru7r0iDZJM/UJCFcFfhrPI/AAAAAAAAAks/psu2Io51Vks/s400/IMG_5213.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my "room" at the farm. my bed is the one covered in a pink mosquito net</td></tr></tbody></table><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l0vGfDvVXRs/UJCE84YrkqI/AAAAAAAAAkg/hm6mfbBAt-Q/s1600/IMG_5240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l0vGfDvVXRs/UJCE84YrkqI/AAAAAAAAAkg/hm6mfbBAt-Q/s400/IMG_5240.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the funny farm family</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oAS2HBtb3PY/UJB24BPHzhI/AAAAAAAAAjU/avL1q5wUIIY/s1600/IMG_5232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-oAS2HBtb3PY/UJB24BPHzhI/AAAAAAAAAjU/avL1q5wUIIY/s400/IMG_5232.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">the clay cafe construction</td></tr></tbody></table>before i got there mimi had been on layla duty. but she deemed layla to be "the spawn of satan", so i took over layla duty when i arrived. mimi was moved to kitchen/clay duty. and the boys were in charge of getting the roof of the clay cafe up. we worked anywhere from 2-4 hours a day.<br />in our spare time we ate. we ate so much.<br />in the mornings after we woke up we would all gather in the kitchen and discuss&nbsp;where we wanted to eat that day. depending on what we chose, we would base our morning or afternoon excursions on proximity to the eating establishment. our favourite islands restaurants were the greek taverna, run by greek expat couple, and the red snapper which was a decadent western restaurant run by a dutch couple. roman and martin were both chefs and relished the daily foodie binges.<br />mimi and i had rented scooters from neng's brother for three dollars a day. so we doubled up on the bikes and took off to explore the island. visiting the national park at one end, and exploring many of the white sand and turquoise blue water beaches.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uGNhHFu9ze4/UJCFrzknSpI/AAAAAAAAAk0/yUzcYC8qQZQ/s1600/IMG_5310.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uGNhHFu9ze4/UJCFrzknSpI/AAAAAAAAAk0/yUzcYC8qQZQ/s400/IMG_5310.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my shower/laundry station</td></tr></tbody></table>living on the farm was definitely rustic. we had to make sure to tuck in our mosquito nets each night or we would wake up to find ourselves covered in mosquito and red ant bites. the washroom was small and dirty. to the point that i couldn't bring myself to use it. i showered underneath the tap (photo above) and i would take an early morning stroll into the papaya and palms trees that surrounded the farm to find a new place to squat each morning. we called the tap that i showered under laya's shower. because that black bucket that is beside it is used as her bathtub everyday.<br /><br />i was neat living with people from all over the world. and hearing their stories. what brought them to this little island, and to this funny farm to help neng build a cafe made of clay. we all bonded so quickly and it was a shame to see everyone go.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-696LUSZ6qqo/UJCEsRApX8I/AAAAAAAAAkY/GIXaCqhviEI/s1600/IMG_5350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-696LUSZ6qqo/UJCEsRApX8I/AAAAAAAAAkY/GIXaCqhviEI/s400/IMG_5350.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">our last day at work</td></tr></tbody></table>after our last day at the farm we all left in different directions. roman headed to laos, martin headed to phi phi to begin his dive master internship, and mimi and i headed north to bangkok for two days. we called it our bangkok 48. we fit as many thai delights into my last two days in thailand as possible. we went to a VIP movie theatre, hunted down a famous mango and sticky rice place, bought illegal dvds, shopped for cheap pharmaceuticals and got one last thai massage.<br />and that was it. i hugged mimi goodbye and hopped in a taxi.<br />"airport please"<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-65813865819461055742012-10-30T12:24:00.000-07:002012-10-30T17:13:01.861-07:00the land of smiles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5gCPa3FUO8/UJAomTPr7FI/AAAAAAAAAiA/LocdfhE3v3E/s1600/IMG_4998_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Y5gCPa3FUO8/UJAomTPr7FI/AAAAAAAAAiA/LocdfhE3v3E/s320/IMG_4998_2.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">school's out in dali</td></tr></tbody></table><br />the south of china was a blur for me.<br />i quickly bopped along from town to town.<br />shangri-la, lijiang, dali and kunming.<br />highlights for me include meeting two friends from france.<br />sylvain and pierre.<br />they have been traveling for nine months so far. they left france in february and are biking to australia!<br />they were occasional cyclists before. but on a whim decided to bike around the world.<br />i met them in shangri-la and was lucky enough to meet up with them again in dali before i left for kunming.<br />hearing stories like theirs inspires me so much. thinking about cycling around the world sounds daunting. but hearing it from someone who is doing, and someone who really had no travel or cycling experience before really makes me aware that anyone can do it.<br />stories like theirs put ideas in my head.<br />once i made it to kunming i took two days to thump around before thailand beckoned.<br />the contrast was immediately apparent, and welcomed. i got off the plane and immediately i could sense the difference.<br />people smiled. everyone smiled. getting through customs was a breeze and soon i was at the info booth asking directions. i needed to navigate my way through public transit to get to my couchsurfers house.<br />i like to ask someone about every five minutes that im walking to make sure im going in the right direction.<br />everyone spoke english, everyone stopped to help me, everyone smiled.<br />people even came up to me to make sure i knew where i was going.<br />it was pouring rain. a mid-monsoon downfall. the worst rain i'd seen on my trip so far. but i couldnt stop smiling.<br />when i arrived at my couchsurfers house i looked like a drowned. soaked to the bone. but i didnt care. my cs'ers were a couple from europe. fiona is from scotland, and cora is from germany. they were just living in bangkok for a month while fiona wrote her final paper for law school. i spent three nights with them while i took care of thai logistics. getting a cell phone and sim card, buying a flight south, and contacting places where i might be able to stay at. during those first days in bangkok i consumed an absurd amount of pad thai and fruit smoothies. pad thai and green curry are my favorite foods in thailand. although really there are too many to count.<br />when i said bye to the girls i headed off to catch my plane. bangkok to phuket.</div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-39086565420554368682012-10-07T00:33:00.000-07:002012-10-07T00:34:20.399-07:00someones shangri-la<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">this is taken from my journal.<br />i wrote it while on an early morning bus ride leaving the city of the famous shangri-la.<br /><br /><i>i can see its beauty, shangri-la.</i><br /><i>a valley. low hanging morning fog.</i><br /><i>dipping itself over the hillside in the foreground.</i><br /><i>the mountains, an idilic background for a novel. for someones shangri-la.</i><br /><i>but it is no longer just a beautiful landscape.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>it is tourists and trucks. dust from construction, concrete housing surrounding the small somewhat preserved old town.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>look at it while walking at dusk or squint your eyes while you ride past in a taxi. taking in only the types of trees, or the way the land lifts and falls.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>my friend christopher reminds me to look up. always look up. look up and you will see blue skies, clouds rolling. just like the hillside they are painted a top of.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>people talk of the national park. 20 km outside of town. they talk about the temple on the outskirts of the city.&nbsp;</i><i>nothing about the town itself. no streets, no building, land or people holding attention.</i><br /><i>nothing about the town possesses the beauty it once did.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>the beauty we all believe it to have.</i><br /><i>it has become another niagra falls. another 'it' island off the coast of thailand. that in a few years becomes populated by tired locals selling postcards and backpackers seeking a cheap getaway. an escape from their lives. forgetting quickly that their escape is the everyday for those people whose homes they rent for two dollars a night, whose food they eat with chopsticks, an exotic culinary appendage.&nbsp;</i><br /><i>the road taking me away from shangri-la talks.&nbsp;</i></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-20650529216529402272012-10-07T00:32:00.001-07:002012-10-29T19:03:06.770-07:00change of direction<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">when i left canada i had a vague plan.<br />i was thinking of doing mongolia then going through western china to get to pakistan.<br />spend about a month in pakistan and then decided where next from there.<br />but as my time in mongolia drew to a close, i had a decision to make. <br />tourists kept getting killed on the exact buses and bus route i would have been on in order to cross the border to pakistan.<br />i kept getting emails from my mom.<br />'i know youll make the right decision bumper'<br />*my parents call me bumper<br />'stay safe kid' etc.<br />i came to the saddened conclusion that i shouldnt head west. that it wasnt meant to be.<br />so as you saw a couple entries ago, i sent a package home. full of all my outdoor gear.<br />tent, sleeping pad, sleeping bag, hiking boots, wool socks, etc.<br />i had picked a new direction. one that wouldn't require that type of gear.<br />i decided to head to thailand. lands of smiles :)<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d65sFGcI37g/UHEdtveoIcI/AAAAAAAAAWc/WawtHvT5i6k/s1600/IMG_4536.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d65sFGcI37g/UHEdtveoIcI/AAAAAAAAAWc/WawtHvT5i6k/s400/IMG_4536.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">boris, me, georgie and the terrcotta army in xi'an china.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>couchsurfing with tong and yue helped a lot with getting me started in my new direction. they booked two train tickets for me. one from beijing to xian. and the other, xian to chengdu. both were 13 hour night trains. they got me first class and second class sleepers for the journey.<br />xian is known for its terracotta warriors. which i saw when i was little on a national discovery program. i also read about them on rob lilwalls blog when he walked from mongolia to hong kong this year. xian is where i met liling and boris, and rid myself of my aforementioned cave feet.<br />chengdu is known for their pandas. so pandas is what i did. i joined three aussies and made the early morning trip into see the endangered species.<br />after i got my panda fix i headed west, towards tibet.<br />i took an eight hour bus ride to a town called kangding. on the ride there i met a german guy around my age named christopher. we hit it off right away and ended up traveling for over a week together. we stayed a couple nights in kangding before taking a mini bus further into the tibetan area for a couple nights. we hiked to a tibetan nunnery, ate yak yogurt and stayed the most colorful guesthouse ive ever seen!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CKCwar0JNCg/UHEuTkuUMpI/AAAAAAAAAXE/h1U_iFXusXQ/s1600/IMG_4642.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CKCwar0JNCg/UHEuTkuUMpI/AAAAAAAAAXE/h1U_iFXusXQ/s400/IMG_4642.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ga_RwHdF-4U/UHEuGSkk2xI/AAAAAAAAAW8/lkw2m1pOWfo/s1600/IMG_4624.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ga_RwHdF-4U/UHEuGSkk2xI/AAAAAAAAAW8/lkw2m1pOWfo/s400/IMG_4624.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-woetb_uKVBU/UHEuea0T1hI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/7e_M4zdfAuY/s1600/IMG_4837.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-woetb_uKVBU/UHEuea0T1hI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/7e_M4zdfAuY/s400/IMG_4837.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and christopher in tagong</td></tr></tbody></table><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ya6S__DGi4k/UHEup162aEI/AAAAAAAAAXY/bwhsGEw62Ws/s1600/IMG_4942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ya6S__DGi4k/UHEup162aEI/AAAAAAAAAXY/bwhsGEw62Ws/s400/IMG_4942.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my colorful guesthouse near tibet</td></tr></tbody></table>the next leg of our journey was traveling further south along the sichuan-tibetan highway. i ended up taking an 18 hour bus ride from kangding to daocheng. the bus traveled along single lane, unpaved mountain passes, no guardrails. it was one of the most terrifying things ive done. luckily i loaded up on motion sickness tablets and slept for a good chunk of the journey. i was very conscious of my ipods battery life. the last thing i wanted was to be without music to drown the chinese classics that were being blasted throughout the bus.<br />but my bus binge didnt stop in daocheng. it was just a twenty-four hour stopover before my next bus. daocheng to shangrila.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8I4IsMYrcg/UHEu3EZY-CI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IhbKATb6FAs/s1600/IMG_5005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m8I4IsMYrcg/UHEu3EZY-CI/AAAAAAAAAXg/IhbKATb6FAs/s400/IMG_5005.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kRnzYWhfYtk/UHEu_KoXD0I/AAAAAAAAAXo/4_f2YWlUoFI/s1600/IMG_5020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kRnzYWhfYtk/UHEu_KoXD0I/AAAAAAAAAXo/4_f2YWlUoFI/s400/IMG_5020.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">dali, china</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-70681704151083815972012-09-20T18:55:00.000-07:002012-09-20T18:55:34.169-07:00cave feet<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">my feet.<br />my feet had become like the feet of a cave dweller. someone who lives in a damp cave. in darkness,and walks on rough stones all day.<br />they were disgusting.<br />if i was to take off my shoes, i would have to plan ahead. socks. i carried socks around. just as essential to my purse as toilet paper.<br />*no bathrooms here have toilet paper. it's a b.y.o. type thing. and if you forget...well, just don't forget.<br />so back to my hobbit-like hideous feet. for weeks i've wanted to treat myself to a pedicure. so yesterday the fates aligned and the day was upon me.<br />i spent the day with two new friends. boris and liling. both spoke mandarin. it was liling's birthday, and we spent the morning at some fancy pagoda thing (clearly i was really into it...). liling wanted to pamper herself for her birthday. and she was torn between massage or haircut.<br />after meandering streets and popping into different salons and massage places that ranged from super dodgy, to super sketchy we settled on something in between.<br />we found a nice hair saloon on a dodgy street, that had a dodgy foot 'cleaning' and massage place beside it. liling went into the saloon and boris and i popped into the foot place. i explained to boris the state of my feet. and that i wasnt so much leaning towards pedicure, as i was intense filing/exfoliating.<br />my mom probably is cursing me now. she is an advocate for nightly foot washing and scrubbing. but when showers are few and far between, my feet are pretty low on my priority list.<br />boris stuck his head in and asked what the deal was. they said they would were full now, but to pop a squat out front and they'd have room in ten minutes.<br />the front of the store was full glass windows. the store itself was just big enough to fit five lazy boy recliners wall to wall. each chair had a wooden bucket in front of it, and a foot stool on the other side of that bucket. and then there were four men and one woman who ran the show.<br />they motioned us in. boris sweet talked them into rearranging it so we could sit beside each other. which looking back on it, i'm not sure was a good idea.<br />literally...cave dweller feet.<br />boris translated.<br />first they brought over the wooden bucket which was full of hot tea. i plunked in my trolls and sat back smiling.then boris followed suit. after a couple minutes of soaking i was told to swivel around so i was sitting on the foot stool behind the bucket. feet still soaking, a back "massage" commenced.i didnt want to show pain. i was very aware to keep my face relaxed and not grip my hands wildy on the arms of the chair. i looked over at boris, and was happy to see he was feeling it too. they twisted me about cracking and prodding my whole back.then i felt his knee on my back. he pushed on me like he was trying to close a really old collapsible table that sometimes gets stuck midway through, and it needs a little extra push. but i liked it. i however made the mistake of telling boris, who translated my enthusiasm. i was then treated to two more 'knee-ings'<br />after the back was done, we flipped back onto the seats and the foot connoisseurs dipped their hands into the water and felt our feet. boris' guy said that his foot skin was thin and healthy, no filing for him. then my guy dipped his hands in. felt my feet, his eyes widened, face blank, lip curled, looked at me and then got up. he walked over to a table and came back with three files. metal,dark and looking slightly like torture devices. i was mortified. the poor man. and boris. boris and his perfect feet.<br />my foot dude held up my foot and got to work. like liling at the hair saloon beside us, pieces of me were falling to the floor. except instead of hair...i had hunks and chunks of foot grossness falling on the floor. meanwhile, boris' foot massage had started.<br />i remember watching an episode of the amazing race with mom and dad, and the challenge was to endure a traditional chinese foot massage. and after seeing boris' expression, i had a feeling that is what we signed up for. after my feet were thoroughly hacked to perfection, my torture began. it was the most unusual feeling. it was an excruciating combination of intense tickle and brutal pain. it felt like he was trying to rip apart the muscles in my foot. and sometimes he would alternate between foot torture and would prop my foot up on the stool and start prodding my calf. i had to restrain myself from kicking him in the chest.<br />after the first couple minutes i got somewhat adjusted. i didnt wince as much.<br />our feet guys started talking to boris.<br />i asked him what they were saying.<br />boris said that they can tell us about what is going on in our bodies based on our feet. boris was told he wasn't getting restful sleep, and &nbsp;that he was having stomach issues.<br />i asked him what my guy had to say about me. well he had a lot to say.<br />bad skin, bad skin caused by too much chi in my body. i can cure this by drinking more herbal tea, specifically chrysanthemum tea if i can. i also am at risk for developing low blood pressure and gall stones. i need more restful sleep, i have gastric digestive problems, and my liver is too 'heaty'. boris did his best to describe what heaty was. but i still dont get it. but the foot guy said that getting cupping done would help with the liver and the too much chi in my body thing. i told boris to tell him that i got it done in beijing and i liked it.<br />boris did, and then told me that they could do it here if i wanted. i looked around. we were in the tiniest 'spa' ever, and there was only one room.<br />boris noted my confusion.<br />'there is a curtain on your chair. they will pull it across. it is 20 yuan if you are interested'<br />twenty yuan is three dollars and twenty cents. heck yes i was interested. so a thin pink sheet was pulled across my lazy boy, and it was fully reclined into 'bed' mode. i walked behind the curtain and boris translated for me.<br />okay lay down.<br />no, face at the other end.<br />okay you can take your shirt off.<br />now bra.<br />this is weird.<br />then i saw my foot dude pull a piece of paper with a bunch of tiny glass jars over to me.he lathered up my back with oil.&nbsp;i saw the flaming tongs get lit, and then i felt it. the first cup was sucked on my back. but instead of just leaving it in one place, he started to drag it all over my back. it was like when i was little and dad would suck the vacuum to my pant leg. except this was a super human vacuum, and it was on my bare skin. this hurt. but it was over soon, and he began to place all of the cups on my back. i could feel my skin behind sucked up into them. i waited like that for about ten or fifteen minutes. then they were twisted off. i got dressed and paid the ridiculously low sum of eight dollars for the whole thing! over an hour, new feet, foot and back massage and cupping!<br />my mind was blown!<br />when i got out from behind the pink curtain i looked in the mirror.<br />i looked like a teenage mutant ninja turtle. the spots where the cups had swollen - a lot. i look like i had the most intense back muscles EVER! it was gross, and kind of awesome.<br />so needless to say, i no longer have cave feet.<br />and i have a fond appreciation for sketchy looking foot massage places :)</div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-71117327969211231272012-09-20T09:50:00.000-07:002012-09-20T09:50:59.883-07:00back in beijing<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L_SoEv5n7-U/UFmKKwbhn7I/AAAAAAAAATo/KG4uPSmU-oE/s1600/IMG_1277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L_SoEv5n7-U/UFmKKwbhn7I/AAAAAAAAATo/KG4uPSmU-oE/s320/IMG_1277.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and christoffer </td></tr></tbody></table>instead of taking the train back to beijing i flew. it was about the same price, and twenty eight hours shorter. <br />the night before my flight i met up with my friends who had just finished the mongol derby. one of them had the same flight as me. so christoffer (who came in 4th in the derby!) and i set off for beijing the next night. when we arrived in beijing christoffer asked if i wanted to share a taxi into the city.<br />i explained that i was couchsurfing and told my hosts i would be taking a bus to where they live.<br />christoffer wasnt having any of this ridiculous 'bus' business, and insisted on a taxi.<br />we consulted a map and figured out that we were both headed in the same general direction.<br />christoffer was headed into the heart of the city to go pick up suits from a tailor. then he had to find a place to stay for the night.<br />he asked where i was going.<br />"couchsurfing" i said with a smile.<br />he didnt know what it was. i explained all about it. which i now do with pleasure. but every time i talk about it, it always sounds like im trying to get someone to join a cult.<br />"youve got to try it"<br />"everyone is amazing"<br />"ive told my friends about it and they joined - you should too..."<br />christoffer was intrigued.<br />when we got to the tailors i gave him my cs'ers phone number in case he needed help with something. i wished him luck with the suits, finding a place to stay, and his flight home to sweden in the morning. i also reminded him that if he got stuck, he could always call my host and they most likely would welcome him for the night if he was in a pinch. we hugged, said our goodbyes and then i was off in search of yue (the mom) and tong (the dad).<br />yue and tong sent me an offer to host me on couchsurfing after seeing an open couch request i had posted for beijing.<br />yue and tong are around my mom and dads age. they live in an apt in central beijing. they have one daughter who is a couple years older than me. <br />when the cab driver and i left the tailors i gave him tong's cell number to call so she could navigate us to her location. it worked like a charm. i could hear her on the other end of the cabbies phone rambling off directions in mandarin. and it worked. soon enough it was about 10pm and the cab had pulled over. i thanked him profusely and handed him the fare. when i turned to open my door i saw a short chinese women with a huge smile, nodding and opening my door for me. it was tong.<br />"emily?"<br />"hi!!! i made it!" i said while wrapping her up in a big canadian hug. which, by the way is by far the best greeting. screw europe and their stupid one, two and three cheek kisses, or the ever popular handshake. a hug is where it's at. and im a good hugger. i like to showcase my skills early on.<br />i released tong. she thanked the cab driver, helped me swing on my pack and we were off.<br />on the walk to her apartment i explained how my flight was. that i had taken the cab with my friend christoffer from sweden.<br />"from sweden?" tong asked.<br />"yes, gothenburg" i replied. and then replayed my answer over in my head to make sure i didn't say gotham city, a common slip - surprising for a non batman fan such as myself. although i could go for christian bale in a tight black suit any day.<br />"is he visiting beijing for a while?"<br />"nope, just picking up some suits and then finding a place to stay for the night before his flight in the morning"<br />"he doesnt know where he is staying?"<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GjVEIcu2iSI/UFmLHtwSMxI/AAAAAAAAAUI/X6W8wL0SCNU/s1600/IMG_1301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GjVEIcu2iSI/UFmLHtwSMxI/AAAAAAAAAUI/X6W8wL0SCNU/s320/IMG_1301.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">me and yue in front of their apt</td></tr></tbody></table>"nope, he was considering a hostel, hotel, and was even going to try using charades to ask the tailor shop if he could sleep in the shop until they open in the morning"<br />﻿ "what a shame, you could have told him he could stay here"<br />"well i did give him your number in case he got stuck, or needed help translating with the tailor, so he might call"<br />"it would be nice to practice my swedish" tong said as we entered the apartment.<br />"practice your what?...you speak swedish?"<br />"didnt you see in our profile? we used to live in sweden, i even have studied swedish, and our daughter had lived in sweden since she was ten"<br />i couldn't believe my ears. christoffer would loose his mind.<br />tong opened the apartment door.<br />"we are home!"<br />and from around the corner popped yue with a plate full of sliced peaches. he helped me off with my pack. and we all sat in the living room. well, yue and i sat at first. tong raced about the kitchen preparing plates and plates of food to offer me. i felt like royalty.<br />i was still excited and intrigued about the swedish factor. i was asking so many questions they could hardly keep up. i explained christoffer and the tailor, and i asked about their daughter, and why sweden, and for how long. and then the phone rang.<br />tong whipped her head in my direction and smiled. <br />she answered her phone in english.<br />"hello?"<br />and then the phone was handed to me.<br />"think i can come stay with you tonight? would they mind?" asked christoffer.<br />i looked up into the eager and awaiting faces of tong and yue.<br />"when can you get here?" i asked with a smile.<br />then i handed the phone back to tong who then gave more directions to a cab driver christoffer had hailed. and within twenty minutes, christoffer too was sitting in their kitchen being stuffed with tea and freshly sliced peaches.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BGEOn6Gv5Aw/UFmKcO4SoLI/AAAAAAAAAT0/ttzsnaLwU5U/s1600/IMG_1293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BGEOn6Gv5Aw/UFmKcO4SoLI/AAAAAAAAAT0/ttzsnaLwU5U/s320/IMG_1293.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">goodbyes</td></tr></tbody></table>that night was a whirlwind of excitement. we stayed up talking late into the night. no one could really believe the chances of this group of people finding each other. especially christoffer, who now has a strong appreciation for my cult like love of couchsurfing. and the wonders it produces. <br />the morning came too soon. we all had more of a nap, instead of a nights sleep before we all woke for christoffers send off.<br />tong made us a big breakfast and we all left the apartment and walked christoffer to his cab for the airport. cameras in hand for a round or eight, of goodbye photos.&nbsp; <br />&nbsp;i spent the next four days becoming tong and yues 'white' daughter. i loved the position. family meals three times a day. family swims each night before dinner. even all three of us would cuddle up on the couch after dinner to watch tong's favorite chinese soap opera. beijing youth. even without subtitles i was able to follow the story line and become an addict.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CYkINVTTNqk/UFmLVrVVyAI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/sTPvUTzBcas/s1600/IMG_1307.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CYkINVTTNqk/UFmLVrVVyAI/AAAAAAAAAUQ/sTPvUTzBcas/s320/IMG_1307.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pre-dinner swim at a lake near their home</td></tr></tbody></table>tong and yue treated me like family. they helped me buy tickets online for my upcoming train rides. making sure i got good sleeper cars. tong even had a friend at the post office who got me a sweet deal on sending a package home. my stay with them was perfect. it satisfied a homesickness need i didnt realize was there.&nbsp; <br /><br /> <br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JRRfWoNJeus/UFmLiBMUm0I/AAAAAAAAAUc/_ApJBktIuRo/s1600/IMG_1303.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="213" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JRRfWoNJeus/UFmLiBMUm0I/AAAAAAAAAUc/_ApJBktIuRo/s320/IMG_1303.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">tong helping me send a pkg home</td></tr></tbody></table>﻿﻿﻿﻿i dont think the world is a small place. that common saying is a little off. actually, it is a lot off.<br />the world is a huge place.<br />a huge place full of people that will surprise you.<br />surprise you with kindness. with hospitality. with generosity. with knowledge. with time. with stories.<br />and i really do love a good surprise.<br />when i have experiences like this one with christoffer, tong and yue, it really makes me think.<br />it doesnt matter where i am.<br />it is the people that make my trip.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H-XAh9u6U0A/UFmLwDoepFI/AAAAAAAAAUk/5mOezM_o-tg/s1600/IMG_1321.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H-XAh9u6U0A/UFmLwDoepFI/AAAAAAAAAUk/5mOezM_o-tg/s320/IMG_1321.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">goodbye dinner</td></tr></tbody></table>sure being on the wide open plains in mongolia was unbelivable. but without the silly belgium, my friend sarah, or my horse henry, it would have just been me with a gorgeous backdrop.<br />i really do like traveling alone. i like me. i like spending time with me.<br />but i like those chunks of time to be sprinkled with surprise.<br />and couchsurfing and travel sure helps with the sprinkles.&nbsp; <br /><br />﻿﻿ <br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">﻿﻿</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;">﻿﻿</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-77325138954918925632012-09-15T00:48:00.003-07:002012-09-19T03:13:11.818-07:00the adventurists<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">after my stint in the gobi i was thrilled to be in a hostel again. when checking in i met a girl from belgium, sarah.we checked in together. i was in a ten bed mixed dorm, and sarah was in a private double with an ensuite. well ooo-la-la sarah. she headed upstairs to her kingdom, and i dumped my bag amoungst a stinky heap in the ten bed dorm. now there really was a stinky heap. it was right beside my bunk.the heap consisted of duffle bags, dirty clothes, car cables, foot spray,well used sleeping bags and vegemite...aussies! the owners of this heap were ted, simon and bill. they had just completed the mongol rally. i told them of my love for&nbsp;<a href="http://www.theadventurists.com/" target="_blank">the adventurists</a>&nbsp;expeditions, and how i had friends doing the derby as well.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dxliWqfG_90/UFmVTQumLyI/AAAAAAAAAVo/7Q-bLOVfKGw/s1600/IMG_4306.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dxliWqfG_90/UFmVTQumLyI/AAAAAAAAAVo/7Q-bLOVfKGw/s320/IMG_4306.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">out we go</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and it was this connection to the derby...and some suggesting from a friend, that persuaded me to try horse riding. cause apparently it is THE thing to do in mongolia. and luckily i had bumped into a guy from the states the day before who recommended one outfit that was great at catering to first timers horse riding needs. so we called up the number he gave us, and within an hour a man named mindee came and picked us up at our hostel and started to drive us out into the steppe. halfway to the camp mindee pulled over and told us someone else would pick us up soon and take us the rest of the way. right as he was finishing explaining the change of plan, a large blue van pulled up. sarah and i hopped in. there were six guys in the van already. four brits, and two belgians. all of them had just finished the mongol rally!</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PMz1n0Yu_ps/UFmU_U_IBPI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/r9AR8fETNCU/s1600/IMG_4292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PMz1n0Yu_ps/UFmU_U_IBPI/AAAAAAAAAVQ/r9AR8fETNCU/s320/IMG_4292.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">ger camp</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the camp is just an hour outside of the city. but it is over a cluster of mountainy hill things so you feel like you are in the middle of nothing. or as a friend described it..."it looks like we are riding through the PC background"</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">just rolling green hills in every direction.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">we pulled up to the camp and there were about twelve white gers clumped together. we got out, were outfitted with chaps and helmets, and then lead up to the horses. mongolian horses are all short and thick. not built for speed so much as endurance. they are the horses that helped chingis khan conquer nations.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">our 'lesson' consisted of them explaining the 'choo' meant go, and to always approach the horse, get on and off from the left.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'what means stop?'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'there is no word for stop'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">grrrreat.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the horses were dealt out. i was given one of the tame ones. i named him henry.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">henry was grey and not too short. he started off slow, but when he heard our guide yell CHOO, well jesus did henry ever choo. i talked to him constantly.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">slow down henry!!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">watch out for the marmut holes henry, you could break an ankle!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">s-s-s-llll-o-o-W-W D-D-D-OWN HENRY!!!!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">henry kept up with the guide the whole time. our guide would have to turn around and round up some of the horses that weren't being the most coopertive.</div>when we returned back to the camp about an hour later, we found one of the belgians who had turned back after just getting down the trail head.<br />'didnt like your horse jean?'<br />'well i say to him - lets go, and he say no, he turn round, i say okay - he da one walking'<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">this same belgian introduced sarah and i to some of the others.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'emily, dis is mattieu from england'</div>'hi mattieu im emily'<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i learned three days later when talking to mattieu that his name is matthew. i had been calling him mattieu because a french belgian intoduced us. i felt like an idiot.the boys left that afternoon. but sarah and i were staying overnight in one of the gers, so we went on another ride that night with the same guide. only this time instead of an innocent hour long jaunt, we went on a five hour trek. over mountains, through rivers. well maybe over hills and through a brook...but still. it was the most beautiful thing i've done. i kept thinking while i was bopping along on henry that i couldnt believe i was actually there, on a horse, in mongolia. i couldnt stop smiling to myself.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">after that crash course in riding mongolian horses, i felt like i had a better appreciation for my friends in the rally. my butt was sore, my thighs were rashy and red, and my back hurt. and every meal we ate at the horse camp revolved around flour, dairy and mutton.i never want to eat mutton again. mutton in soup, mutton on bread, mutton in bread, mutton boiled in the one pot the family had, so the water that is boiling for drinking water the next morning tastes like...MUTTON! but my hatred for it is nothing compared to that of my derby friends. who now cringe at the word. mutton and mountain are both curse words for the derby folk. who despise both equally.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35o8Lr5IGE8/UFmVOqKubcI/AAAAAAAAAVg/5Xl39jW-LN8/s1600/IMG_4304.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-35o8Lr5IGE8/UFmVOqKubcI/AAAAAAAAAVg/5Xl39jW-LN8/s320/IMG_4304.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">henry</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">oh! and during the five hour ride, our guide got our horses to stop outside of a nomadic families ger. he tied them up and we went inside. the man of the house sat at a raised bed at the back of the ger, and we all sat to his right. his wife came in soon after and went to a tall and large blue plastic drum beside the entrance to the ger. she stirred the wooden pole that was inside of it. then dipped in a laddle and poured a huge portion of white liquid into decorative blue and white bowls. it was arag. my time had finally come to drink what i had been reading about in blogs and guidebooks. arag is fermneted horse milk. it is roughly 3% alcohol, depending on how long its been sitting about in the drum. it tastes like thin plain yogurt that is kind of sour, room temperature, and carbonated...and alcoholic.i knew if i drank the whole thing i would explode or vomit. so i politely raised the bowl to my lips. brought it back down and then licked my lips. not too bad. so i raised the bowl again, as the wife looked at me intently. ready to read my expressions. this time i took a gulp. smiled and set my bowl on the table in front of me. sarah finished her whole bowl...and lets just say it was a rough ride home for her.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">we headed back to our hostel in UB the next day. sarah was leaving the next morning and i was waiting to hear back from a potential cs host.but when i called her she told me she was hosting a french couple, so it couldn't work out. but then she asked what id be doing for my last couple days in UB. i told her that i didnt really have any plans. but that night i was meeting friends at the mongol rally party.she told me she was going there with her boyfriend. he is australian and would be wearing a green shirt.i told her i would be with three aussies and i would wear a white shirt.so that was that.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the rally party started at the finish line, where the cars are brought when they arrive to UB.at the finish line&nbsp;there was a bar. so we stayed for a while before it moved to a club that the organizers had booked for the party. we made our way over there with a guy who had just completed the rally in a wheelchair! i was imediately impressed when we were leaving the finish line bar, which is on the fourth floor, and he (several beers deep) made his way flawlessly down so many flights of stairs in a wheelchair!</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9CIbEvygc4/UFmVIzLdEII/AAAAAAAAAVY/AJ9qEgyINXw/s1600/IMG_4301.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Q9CIbEvygc4/UFmVIzLdEII/AAAAAAAAAVY/AJ9qEgyINXw/s320/IMG_4301.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">me and henry</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the club was really really nice. and it made for a hilarious contrast when it became filled with hords of people who had just finished driving from england to mongolian in beat up cars. there were people in complete outdoor include northface pants and tilly hats, a bunch of british boys in matching leopard print tights and neon muscle shirts, and just a general stink of traveler grunge. the evening opened with a tradition mongolian band playing. it was so awesome to see these girls and guys dressed in elaborate traditional dress playing insane looking instruments. oh! and there was throat singing too.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">at around eleven i spotted an asian girl kissing a white guy who was wearing a green shirt. i walked over, inturupted the moment.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">meg?</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">emily anne!</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">lots of hugging and laughing followed.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">"emily, meet me at the finish line tomorrow at noon and ill come get you and you can stay with me"</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and that is exactly what i did.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">it was great to cs again. meg and ben were amazing hosts and</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">on my first night at megs place i had gotten a msg from the aussie boys inviting us to dinner. so i told them i would meet them at 5 at the town square. meg was going to grab a quick shower and meet us there at 530.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">at around 520 i see meg walking towards me and the aussie boys. she was holding a black puppy. meg had walked by someone who was selling puppies out of a cardboard box and bought one.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'what did you do?!'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'i bought a puppy, but i told them i would walk around with it for a bit before i made a decision. so i still can return it'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PgZulh-j-uI/UFmVdotvnzI/AAAAAAAAAV8/68CPBk98qN8/s1600/IMG_4346.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PgZulh-j-uI/UFmVdotvnzI/AAAAAAAAAV8/68CPBk98qN8/s320/IMG_4346.JPG" width="320" /></a>soon later ben, her boyfriend arrived. not at all shocked when i explained.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'what did i do?!' meg asked, now fully realizing the stupidity of the situation.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'well i impulse bought a chocolate bar today, you impulse bought a dog.'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">by bedtime, the puppy (who i named jack) had been returned.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">and i was tucked into my sleeping bag, wondering what took me so long to return to couchsurfing.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">the next day i said goodbye to my aussie boys as they all headed off in different directions. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">but luckily one of the three (ted), was heading south like me. we exchanged emails and made a plan. we would meet again in china.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br /></div></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-34629954416429221802012-08-14T02:05:00.002-07:002012-08-14T02:05:44.965-07:00back in UB<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">well i did it.<br />i went to the gobi and survived.<br />mind you i did it quicker than previously thought. why you ask. cause its a freakin' desert! it was hotter than i ever could have imagined. i don't know how i worked it out that me, a hearty canadian girl could go by herself to the desert in the summer and camp...for a week. HA!<br />silly emily anne. you're not a camel.<br />no, i am not a camel. which is why after my first 24 in the desert i made my way back to the dusty southern gobi town of dalanzadgad and booked a bus ticket back to UB. where wind blows a cool breeze, not just more heat and sand. where you can find a cold beer around every corner, although to be honest i usually opt for a popsicle. and where there is often aircon at night time. and i get to cuddle up in a big duvet in order to fall asleep. i don't care if that doesn't make me worldly...i like to fall asleep wrapped in blankets in a room that is chilly! there i said it.<br /><div style="text-align: left;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0p2rPgQMndU/UCoG2A8oMFI/AAAAAAAAAQk/7L5V1VsUVO4/s1600/IMG_4145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0p2rPgQMndU/UCoG2A8oMFI/AAAAAAAAAQk/7L5V1VsUVO4/s320/IMG_4145.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">waiting for the bank/internet/apartment building to open</td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--0Ja_K2h98k/UCoG_edRkuI/AAAAAAAAAQs/7Mk-Jd5-Mqo/s1600/IMG_4149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--0Ja_K2h98k/UCoG_edRkuI/AAAAAAAAAQs/7Mk-Jd5-Mqo/s320/IMG_4149.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">picked a direction and started walking</td></tr></tbody></table>so after i wrote the last post from the apartment/bank/internet building i swung on my bag and wandered around the town looking for a place to stay that night. the first place i went in was a concrete square box on the edge of town. it was painted a fading baby blue color and had big block letters spelling out hotel across the top. i pulled open the large creeky wooden door and walked in to a dimly lit reception area. which was empty. when i walked in past the entry way a short plump little lady came in.<br />'nik?'<br />'yeah nik'<br />then she motioned for me to follow her.<br />nik is the number one. thanks to the english camp kids, i now know how to count to ten in mongolian!<br />we went up a flight of stairs and she led me into a tiny room with four beds. each bed but one was obviously occupied. i noted this by the clothing strewn about the floor and the unmade beds. i shook my head.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div>she walked me down the hall to another four bed room. this time when she opened the door and i peaked inside and saw a toddler passed out on one of the beds. the old lady shouted something, i assumed not at the toddler, or me...but i wasn't sure. seconds later i heard footsteps coming up the stairs and a man rushed into the room scooped up the little girl and ran away. she turned to me and smiled, as if she had answered my wishes. she was a genie.<br />'how much?'<br />she whipped out her cell phone and produced a laughable number on the tiny nokia dial pad. i shook my head and typed back half. she laughed and waved goodbye at me.<br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div>this i took as a sign, and as the advice i found online suggested, i picked a direction and started walking.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zoDJlCmn82c/UCoHaBEuqpI/AAAAAAAAARQ/kYcHHlUbMak/s1600/IMG_4218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zoDJlCmn82c/UCoHaBEuqpI/AAAAAAAAARQ/kYcHHlUbMak/s320/IMG_4218.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">big camp sites </td></tr></tbody></table><br />about three or four hours later i picked a spot. i laughed when i remembered what my lonely planet guide said.<br />'there is lots of opportunity for camping around dalanzadgad. just walk a couple km in any directions and pick somewhere secluded'<br />secluded HA! it is the desert. the best i hoped for was to set up camp within walking distance of a shrub that was taller than the rest, to act as my bathroom privacy. i spent two nights here before heading back into town and booking the first ticket out of the scorching inferno.<br />my bus arrived at 8 in the morning. i stood by the driver as he loaded the bags and boxes into the boot.<br />'do you want to put this back there, or have me take it on the bus?'<br />for a brief second the driver looked at me as if i had sneezed, before continuing on with loading the boxes. as if i didn't say anything. the man standing beside the driver however shouted into the crowd of people waiting to board the bus, then he looked back at me and smiled. soon a woman was standing by my side.<br />'can i help?'<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiU3SxvVpyE/UCoITGrlw6I/AAAAAAAAASM/YmbjjfDtvNo/s1600/IMG_4281.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FiU3SxvVpyE/UCoITGrlw6I/AAAAAAAAASM/YmbjjfDtvNo/s320/IMG_4281.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">transport back to UB</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eJcXWzn42hQ/UCoIZ7OE8TI/AAAAAAAAASU/G6IGjoeBsuA/s1600/IMG_4282.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eJcXWzn42hQ/UCoIZ7OE8TI/AAAAAAAAASU/G6IGjoeBsuA/s320/IMG_4282.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">pee break</td></tr></tbody></table>and she sure did! it was the mans wife. they were on their way back to UB with their daughter. the mom works for world vision in mongolian and dealt with a lot of canadians, which is where she perfected her english. over the 16 hour bus ride back the mom took me under her wing. she told me what seat was mine on the bus, she woke me up at rest stops, she held a jacket around my bright white butt when we took pee breaks in the open nothingness of the gobi, she translated the lunch menu for me, and she even asked a local to drive me to my hostel when we arrived back in UB, so i didn't have to pay for a cab. she was my desert angel. and along the bumpy drive back i watched her and her husband and daughter. the daughter was their only child. she had just graduated high school. the mom and dad rotated seats every few hours to sit beside the daughter. when they switched, the daughter would curl up into a ball and rest her head on her mom or dads lap and the mom or dad would pull her in close over every big bump and jolt of the bus. i stared at them. it reminded me of my mom and dad. and how they would do the same thing. i got teary eyed as the mom put a jacket over the napping daughter, and when she handed the dad another cucumber sandwich and he kissed her hand as she gave it to him. that family trip gave me my first tinge of homesickness. i put my headphones on and played&nbsp; michael buble's <i>home </i>and made the situation ten times worse.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lfuvCIx7f3Q/UCoIlfSyg6I/AAAAAAAAASc/CuBHMetb6jQ/s1600/IMG_4284.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lfuvCIx7f3Q/UCoIlfSyg6I/AAAAAAAAASc/CuBHMetb6jQ/s320/IMG_4284.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">local woman selling goat milk and other dairy products</td></tr></tbody></table>i am now back in UB. yesterday i booked a flight to beijing for the 21st. i will head there to attempt to get my pakistan visa. if i don't succeed i will still head into western china and then figure out something from there.<br /><br />*fun mongolian fact. they drink aloe juice here. it is like sweet water with chunks of aloe plant in it. it was weird to adjust to at first...since it felt like i was drinking huge chunks of backwash. but once you get over the vomit worthy texture issue, it is amazing! <br /><br />&nbsp; <br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><div style="text-align: right;"></div><br /><br /><br />&nbsp; </div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-42927819372607571732012-08-08T20:51:00.001-07:002012-08-13T20:23:24.523-07:00gobi<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">so the next morning i did get picked up by sergy. sergy is a petite man from ukraine who runs a summer camp for kids with his wife, odna.odna is from mongolia. they have two boys. hakim and ohhantucsk.<br />sergy picked me up at eight sharp. we drove along roads littered with pot holes and dust. it took about an hour and a half to get to our destination, terelj national park. he talked the whole way there. i just kept nodding and smiling and trying to decipher when he was telling a joke, so i would know when to laugh.<br />'the mongol people, how they live. hard life, lots of babies. i don't know why so many'<br />i nod.<br />'the mongol goverment, how it function. they put president in jail, you know?'<br />i smile.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LwO5X4e4Kdo/UCm_rvEONOI/AAAAAAAAAPA/ni-O-7aH4T8/s1600/IMG_4063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LwO5X4e4Kdo/UCm_rvEONOI/AAAAAAAAAPA/ni-O-7aH4T8/s320/IMG_4063.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">i didn't intervene. i photographed.&nbsp; </td></tr></tbody></table>as we got further into the national park i started to see more and more ger's.<br />some were in clumps or rows. those sergy explained were tourist camps. the ones that were out further and only one or two standing alone, those were the real deal. we pulled up to a fenced in area with about 18 gers in rows beside one another. each labeled with a number. sergy took me to 12. it was all mine. i set down my bag and sergy sniffed the air. was it me? then he turned and walked out the door. while walking away he said<br />'it smell, too much rain. we dry'<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lu0i_RKwv2o/UCm_yFqEGrI/AAAAAAAAAPI/R2IFOnil-JE/s1600/IMG_4074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lu0i_RKwv2o/UCm_yFqEGrI/AAAAAAAAAPI/R2IFOnil-JE/s320/IMG_4074.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">terrifying</td></tr></tbody></table>i followed him outside. the door leading into a ger is short, so most have to duck to get through. sergy is short, he didnt duck. i am new to the ins and outs of using a ger, and im not short. this combination left me with a sizable bump and scrap on my forehead. when i did make it outside without any injury, i saw a group of boys coming towards me with sergy behind them. the boys evenly distributeted themselves around my ger and started to lift up the bottom pieces of canvas and wool liners and were tucking them into rope holds. sergy explained that they do this in the day to air out the ger, and at night they put them back down to keep in the heat and keep out the creatures.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kvHvDxeh4a0/UCm_8a39XYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/JMgdSv4u-mM/s1600/IMG_4101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kvHvDxeh4a0/UCm_8a39XYI/AAAAAAAAAPQ/JMgdSv4u-mM/s320/IMG_4101.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my dunking was less violent</td></tr></tbody></table>the next couple days i spent with the kids. the campers range in age from 10-22. the older campers stuck to themselves. which meant i was buddy buddy with a slew of pre-teens. my favorite kid was a little girl named anungoo. you pronounce it like an-un-gaw. her father is the prime minister of mongolia. anungoo spoke english very well and she would come to find me each day and would practice her english.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJ1r9-P9jh4/UCnADnJvOdI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ltNC866fUeo/s1600/IMG_4105.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oJ1r9-P9jh4/UCnADnJvOdI/AAAAAAAAAPY/ltNC866fUeo/s320/IMG_4105.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">they got teacher real good</td></tr></tbody></table>all of my meals were taken care of. they revolved around rice, mutton and milk. breakfasts were a variation of the same thing. rice in a bowl full of hot sweetened milk, rice in a bowl full of hot milk and hot goat broth, or rice and unsweetened cold milk. needless to say my lactose issues took a hit.<br />on my last day there two local men who help run the camp, killed a goat. one of the boys came running to get me. 'teacher teacher!!! they have whole goat today!'<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QrglnWn9QiU/UCnARyyyVkI/AAAAAAAAAPs/MDtsF3-nuBo/s1600/IMG_4126.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QrglnWn9QiU/UCnARyyyVkI/AAAAAAAAAPs/MDtsF3-nuBo/s320/IMG_4126.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">scraping off the stomach gunk</td></tr></tbody></table>he knew i would love to see what was happening, because yesterday they prepped three goat heads, and he was with me the whole time i watched, to translate for the men dealing with the heads and me. when we got up to the goat prep station...aka in concrete stairs in front of the kitchen, i saw the process in all its glory.<br />the men had already skinned it, and were now folding up the skin, and taking the legs and ribs into the kitchen. i stayed with my mini-translator and watched as about four women dealt with all of the innards. they showed me how to dump the contents of the stomach and intestines, how to scrape off the stomach lining, and what parts are good to stuff in the intestines for sausage.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8HBhQ4Z8yUE/UCnALk7HFyI/AAAAAAAAAPk/x_nUrQ0aN7I/s1600/IMG_4122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8HBhQ4Z8yUE/UCnALk7HFyI/AAAAAAAAAPk/x_nUrQ0aN7I/s320/IMG_4122.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">bottom right...bucket of blood</td></tr></tbody></table>that night odna told me about a closing ceremonies type thing for the kids. she asked me to host it. my hosting duties consisted of greeting them and then handing out medals and certificates to the kids. odna would have liked to have me read off each students name, but we quickly came to realize that no one would understand me as i tried to sound out the names. i was fine with the three russian campers. julia, christina, and anya. but when it got down to anungoo, oronbaatar and zozozaya...i would struggle.<br />and that was it. my brief stint as an english teacher was over. and early the next morning i crammed into an old school station wagon with a couple other of the mongolian teachers, and a driver who must fancy himself an indie 500 hopeful, and we headed back to UB. <br />when i got back to my hostel in UB i met up with three girls and a guy who were here for the mongol derby. now i have heard of the mongol rally before but not the derby.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CXTpHndmFto/UCm_fNZp46I/AAAAAAAAAOw/i2OSoM3vpnI/s1600/IMG_4045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CXTpHndmFto/UCm_fNZp46I/AAAAAAAAAOw/i2OSoM3vpnI/s320/IMG_4045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">torchin' up some heads</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dArDOiDidE/UCm_Wsm-K4I/AAAAAAAAAOk/1TLpdv19_eY/s1600/IMG_4030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dArDOiDidE/UCm_Wsm-K4I/AAAAAAAAAOk/1TLpdv19_eY/s320/IMG_4030.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">my ger</td></tr></tbody></table>the rally consists of people buying shitty run down, or silly vehicles (we met guys from sweden that did the rally in an ambulance) and then driving them in a race from england to mongolia. the mongol derby is organzied by the same people. it consists of a race around central mongolia by horse. they are basically on the horse for 14hours a day. they have check points every 40km, where they swap horses, grab food and continue. there are penalties for bringing your horse into a checkpoint dehydrated or out of breath. last year the winner did it in 9 days. and this year they are predicting 8. but most people do it in about 10 days. this year there are only 35 people doing it. and on average 2 of those 30 dont even make it past the practice sessions on the two days prior to the race. you can follow their progress at www.theadventurists.com.<br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0aynK3WYpfs/UCm_ktruL0I/AAAAAAAAAO4/TrHydCGxLLo/s1600/IMG_4062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0aynK3WYpfs/UCm_ktruL0I/AAAAAAAAAO4/TrHydCGxLLo/s320/IMG_4062.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">one of my students and odna's youngest son, hakim</td></tr></tbody></table>my friends in the race are:<br />aimee from england<br />charlotte from england<br />linda from norway<br />and christoffer from sweden.<br />they left for the first practice day on the same morning i left for the gobi. we even timed it out so that i can meet them at the hostel on the 20th when they return from the race. they all booked rooms at the ramada for that night. to treat themselves post race. and im going to tag along!<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7y9ZhP5vq3g/UCnAcOEE3vI/AAAAAAAAAP8/-GjG2aRYQ-E/s1600/IMG_4139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7y9ZhP5vq3g/UCnAcOEE3vI/AAAAAAAAAP8/-GjG2aRYQ-E/s320/IMG_4139.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mongol derby friends and me</td></tr></tbody></table>so we said our goodbyes and i headed for the bus station. i was the only non-mongolian on the bus. it took fifteen hours, four squat outhouses, one questionable truck stop meal, two quick-fix breakdowns, and two snickers bars.<br />we pulled up to the bus station at around 1130. everyone but me seemed to have a ride come and get them. the bus station seemed like it was onthe edge of town, so i put on my pack and headed into what looked like an open field. as i got closer it didnt look so much like a field. more like a construction yard. i had to balance myself across a ditch with huge pipes laid inside. then i found some large dirt and rock piles. i found a flat spot in front of one of the piles and set up my tent. i was cozy in my sleeping bag by midnight.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XkVBTREX1EM/UCnAgwKeFiI/AAAAAAAAAQE/wFR1pyxoTJ8/s1600/IMG_4142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XkVBTREX1EM/UCnAgwKeFiI/AAAAAAAAAQE/wFR1pyxoTJ8/s320/IMG_4142.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">first sunrise in the gobi</td></tr></tbody></table>this morning i woke early with the sun. packed up my gear and headed in town. with the help of a local girl i found the somewhere to use a computer. it is in a bank/apartment/internet building. i started to google about people walking from here to yolyn am, but so far haven't found anything concrete. all i've got is 'pick a direction and just walk'...for hours. so i think that's what i'm going to do. either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. <br />ill post again from here in a couple days. </div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-36867619278907109082012-08-01T09:01:00.000-07:002012-08-01T09:01:36.416-07:00first twenty-four in UB<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">i caught the train in beijing. no problem.<br />it was an almost sad night, saying goodbye to all the friends id made at the hostel.<br />at first i was kind of regretting staying at the hostel instead of cs'ing. but the people i met were beyond amazing. i have made friends from so many places! it was a weird feeling leaving beijing and the people i met there. they were my travel friends.they were all solo travelers. but they were all leaving too. soime where going home after a year of travel, some had school, some were continuing on to a new country. so i guess it was time.<br />the train left at 8am and got into mongolia 30hours later. i bought the cheapest ticket possible. the hard sleeper. it was a cabin with four beds in it. there was only me and one other guy in my cabin. his name is mike. mike is 25, from southern california, greek and an artist. we befriended lots of other twenty-something travelers on the journey north to ulanbaatar.<br />even at the six hour border crossing there was a group of eight of us that left immigration and went out into the town to find a restaurant for a last meal of chinese food and beer before crossing the border.<br />when i arrived in UB (ulaanbaatar, capital of mongolia) i was greeted by a gorgeous mongolian woman with a sign that had my name on it. i felt super awesome. everyone else was trying to arrange taxis and i had a sign lady. i was one of those people who you see walking into a town car at the airport, while you have to go wait at baggage claim for your mom and dad. well not today! but instead of a town car we squished into a really old grey mercedes with grey suede seats that had the louis vuitton LV symbol embossed all over the suede seats. it was really weird. there was our driver, a large mongolian man who spoke perfect english and in the passenger seat there was another big guy who i later learned is named kenny. he has been in mongolia for over three months. he got here and bought a motorcycle for 950$ and rode it all around the country. and the hostel here kind of adopted him, he helps them out, they help him out. kenny is from georgia state. and in the back of the car was my sign lady, me and a dutch couple on their honeymoon. oh and the car was also blasting 90's rap.<br />when we got to the hostel i took off my shoes at the entrance, as per the neon orange signs request. then i waited in the lobby before i got given the grand tour.<br />"we have four bathroom. this one the toilet is broken, this one cold water. this one is the only one that gets hot water...and only between 2 and 4 pm, and NO wifi between 11pm and 7am, breakfast over at 9am"<br />i was shown my room. a six person dorm. i chucked down my bag and headed to the closest atm.<br />mongolian money is insane. i took out 450,000$!!!! which is about 300 canadian. this makes for ordering food confusing.<br />'id like one panini and a sprite'<br />'6000 dollars please'<br />WHHHHHAT??!?!<br />tonight i met up with five other guys from the train ride. thanks to my handy traveler cards...NOT &nbsp;business cards. i gave them out when we parted ways on the train and a few hours later i had heard from two of the guys to see if i wanted to meet up for dinner. so a couple hours later i met with an australian, malaysian, czech, american, and a brit for dinner. we pointed to four things on the menu and hoped for the best. it worked out and dinner was amazing! it also didnt hurt that it worked out to about four dollars a person.<br />after dinner i parted ways with them. i wanted to head back to the hostel to meet up with the dutch couple and see if they had figured out a tour to go on. i was interested in the same. maybe a three day tour before heading north west to camp for a week or so. when i got back to the hostel i was coming up the stairs to the front door and i heard<br />'hey canada, wanna go teach english in the national park for a couple days?'<br />'uh i darn tootin' do!'<br />it was kenny. he had done it for a month a little while ago and loved it. after i said yes, he got on his phone and called sergy. sergy is a little russian man, who appeared at the hostel twenty minutes later. i met him, we shook hands.<br />'what time i pick you up?'<br />'in the morning?'<br />'yes. eight'<br />'well alright then, ill see you at eight'<br />'bye. eight sharp i here'<br />and that was it. that is all i know. kenny hinted at the fact that there was food provided and maybe sleeping in my own ger. but other than that i know nothing. i dont even know for sure what date im coming back. i dont know what ages the kids are...or even if they are kids, i dont know if there is a shower, if i need to bring money, what park it is in etc. im putting all my faith in this kenny character.<br />so im off to bed now, and in the morning a little russian man is driving me somewhere, to apparently teach english to someone...<br />fingers crossed!<br /><br />*fun mongolian fact. its mongolian law that drinking and selling liquor is illegal on the 1st of every month. i arrived on august first. the guys were not impressed!<br /><br /></div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3426704007818667965.post-59668433100402729862012-07-29T22:25:00.000-07:002012-07-29T23:06:08.602-07:00great wall<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i took the subway to the long distance bus station. when i got there a little old woman came up to me and kept pointing at my journal. she was correct in assuming it contained a list of where i needed to get. i showed her my journal. i had written the city i needed to take the bus to, and then the village i needed to hire a mini-bus to take me to. before i left my hostel that morning i had gotten one of the receptionists to write my directions in mandarian so i could point if necessary. i also wrote the mandarian pronounciation down too, just in case. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">after i showed it to her she pointed down the bus station to the very end of the tunnel, where it started to get dark. she followed me as i walked speedily down the tunnel. she guided me into the right line up and everything. then when i got to the front of the line she was there to meet me again. she told the ticket lady where i was going, and then before i got on the bus she shouted at me. </div>"fire station! FIRE STATION!"<br />what the heck? she held up a flat palm at my and kept saying fiiiiieeeeer station.<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i smiled, nodded and got on the bus. she was still shouting. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'ONE HOUR THEN FI-ER STATION!'</div>the bus started up and i was off! about an hour later we hit my first stop, miyun. miyun is a small city...i would compare it to a chinese windsor, ns. i was half asleep when we got into miyun and wasn't really paying attention. i could feel the bus come to a stop and then i heard shouting and someone grabbing and tapping my shoulder. <br />'miyun here, MIYUN NOW!'<br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">well jesus...so i rushed and grabbed my pack and hopped off the bus. i assumed the person shouting at me was the driver, who had overheard the kind bus station angel telling me where to go. but as i walked off the bus, i saw the driver sitting in his seat. when everything clicked it was too late. i was now standing at a bus stopped surrounded by vulture-like cabbies. </div>'where you go?' <br />'how much?' <br />'lady come me!' <br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'you go wall? i take now, gooda gooda price rewe cheap just fo you'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i was infuriated. they had seen me on the bus, i was white, they made the connection. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">then i saw another bus drive by, same number as the one i was on. same bus line. so after i thoroughly reemed out the cabbies i waited for the next bus to come by. i flagged it down. it stopped and the cabbies pushed past me and onto the bus. they were talking to the bus driver...presumably about me. i pushed past them and showed the driver my ticket. he said something and pointed to the stop outside. i started rambling back to him. they hate the language barrier. i sounded like an idiot, but they didnt know what i was saying.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'im not getting off, these men are assholes. take me further into town and then ill get off. you can just start driving. im not going anywhere dude. im stubborn and sweaty.&nbsp;im canadian...im friendly....so DRIVE!'</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">it worked. he got flustered at my talking, or annoyed or something...and he started up the bus. </div>then all of a sudden 'FI-ER STATION' made sense. one hour and then fire station...five stations....five stops. i needed to wait until the fifth stop in town. and i did. <br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">when i got off at the right stop it went much smoother. i was still surrounded by cabbies, but they were nicer. not as rude. the one that i settled with even flagged down some girls around my age to do the translating for us. i bartered until i got him to agree on driving me to hexi village, one hour down the road, for 100Y. which is about sixteen dollars. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">when i got to hexi village the minibus dropped me off at this staircase and the driver pointed to a ticket booth style looking window and then drove off. i walked up to this completely run down ticket booth and pointed to my journal where it read 'entrance to wall?'</div>the old man shook his head and started to get up. when he did that i started to walk over to where the stairs were. that is when his wife appeared and also when he started to limp/chase after me. this is also when the charades began. <br /><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">he got chased up the stairs after me shouting. grabbed my pack and then my jacket, still shouting. he got in front of me and pointed at me and shook his head and finger. i acted out walking - sleepy - tent - wake up - more walking. he countered with rain hands - big arms x's - and more head shaking. he was also adding sounds. rain hands came with a thunder and lightening auditory add-on.</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2m9DWZD-7Q/UBYjviE5YjI/AAAAAAAAAOI/yQyGtmWpzL4/s1600/IMG_3730.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" sda="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2m9DWZD-7Q/UBYjviE5YjI/AAAAAAAAAOI/yQyGtmWpzL4/s320/IMG_3730.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">so so yummy. tiny village dinner. </td></tr></tbody></table><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">this continued for a while before i gave up. i had gathered from our interaction that i couldnt go on the wall tonight because it was supposed to be bad weather that night, that i would be going to stay with a woman who lived down the road, i would be giving her 100Y for the accomodation and dinner and breakfast and that&nbsp;i could meet old man guard guy at 9am tomorrow morning to see if the weather was better and then i could go on the wall.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i felt defeated. not being on the wall on my first night. but im all about the journey not the destination. so if this was part of it all, then so be it. i enjoyed the most delisious meal so far that night. the woman cooked me up a feast! and in the morning i had a great breakfast too. as i was getting ready to leave the woman sent her son over to me with a piece of paper that read 60Y food. i was pissed. she was trying to rip me off. i laughed at the boy, wrote 100Y on the paper and then circled food and sleep beside it. he ran it back to his mom, who then came over to try and explain further. i got what she wanted. what she didnt get was that im not a push over. i pulled out my 'babble english till they fold' card, and it worked again. </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">'no im not paying that much. i already gave you 100, and we agreed that it included food. im not an idiot, 100 is already far more than enough. i dont like being ripped off. i was having a pleasent time up until now, and it's too bad you had to spoil it' </div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">i picked up my bag and left immediately. it was only 7am but after that unpleasent morning encounter i didnt want to chance the old guy not letting me on the wall again, so i headed straight there. when i got there i was pleased to see he wasnt at his post yet. so i started up the steps. there was a man at a bus stop on the same road. he started shouting at me as i started going up the steps. i didnt turn around. the shouts got louder. i kept thinking 'dont turn around, if he wants to stop me enough he'll come after me'. he didn't. and at last, i was on the great wall of china! </div>the next two days and nights were spent keeping watch on fellow great wall explorers as they approached my tower, reading a novel, sleeping through massive thunder storms and exploring the surrounding watchtowers. </div>emily annenoreply@blogger.com0